#LIKE??? NAME ONE STRAIGHT THING ABOUT THIS IMAGE

[aesthetically-dying101]

Not you.

A/N: yeah so atp this is basically a nanami account idk man, ive been mulling over this idea and just.. couldn't not write it.

warnings: she/her usage, mostly fluff and all, rival to lovers? kinda. Things aren't what they seem. i used a bunch of jargon, but idk what the hell it means so... usage of one or two of Y/N

Nanami Kento was a figure who commanded respect the moment he stepped into any room. As the head of the Financial Department, his reputation preceded him. A man of few words, Nanami always carried himself with a certain gravitas, his sharp suit and perfectly styled hair giving off an air of authority.

He was stoic, often leaving the office before anyone had a chance to catch up with him, and in all the time that anyone had worked with him, Nanami had never once mentioned his personal life.

There were rumors, of course—whispers about his wife, about how he was always so distant and so professional. The office was filled with speculation.

Who was she? What was she like? Why did he never speak of her? The only thing anyone knew for certain was that Nanami Kento had no patience for distractions, and his world revolved entirely around his work.

And then there was you—the head of the Operations Department, responsible for overseeing the company’s logistics, product development, and strategic planning.

Your department was vital to the company’s success, just as Nanami’s was, and your work ethic was practically legendary. You were efficient, meticulous and well-put-together—your image just as carefully crafted as Nanami’s.

But unlike Nanami, you didn’t just command respect, you earned it through your quiet authority, your quick intellect, and your ability to get things done.

You rarely discussed your personal life either, but that wasn’t for the same reasons. The office gossips had often speculated about your marriage, or rather, the lack of concrete information about it. You spoke of your husband in passing—always vague, always careful. When asked about him, you would smile softly and say, “He’s a wonderful cook,” or, “He's the best thing that happened to me,” but you never mentioned his name.

To the other employees, you and Nanami were like opposite ends of a magnet—both incredibly powerful in your respective positions but always repelling each other in public.

It was simple, you hated each other.

Allegedly.

*-*

The conference room was filled with the soft hum of hushed conversations as the remaining members of the board filtered in, the meeting about to begin.

The room, with its glass walls and sleek wooden table, seemed to swallow the light, the air thick with unspoken energy. The usual quiet before a presentation had taken on a different tone today—a sort of heavy, expectant stillness.

Everyone knew what this meeting would be like. The air was thick with anticipation, the feeling of two titans preparing to clash.

At the head of the table, Nanami sat with his usual impassive expression. His eyes, sharp and cold as always, scanned over the presentation materials before him, making quick, methodical notes in the margins of his tablet. His hands, large and steady, moved with precision, his posture impeccable. Despite his composed demeanor, there was a slight edge to his usual stoic appearance—his jaw set tighter than usual, his gaze flickering over the documents in front of him but never staying too long in one place.

Across the table, you did the same. Your posture was straight, your fingers tapping lightly against your own tablet- though your eyes remained focused on Nanami as if assessing him.

The subtle tension between the two of you could be felt by anyone in the room who dared to glance between the two of you. You had worked with Nanami for long enough to know how he functioned, but still, there was something about this moment that made you feel the familiar bite of competitive energy.

This wasn’t just business. It was more than that. This was your rivalry—your game.

“You two ready?” The CEO’s voice broke the silence, and everyone turned their attention to him, but all eyes remained glued to you and Nanami.

A brief, almost imperceptible glance passed between you and Nanami before you both nodded.

Nanami spoke first.

“I’ll start with the financial outlook,” he said, his deep voice calm and unwavering. His tone was confident, measured—his usual professional self. No one could ever accuse him of overacting or raising his voice unnecessarily.

That was his strength. Efficiency, precision.

You watched him, your eyes narrowing slightly as you mentally prepared yourself. You knew exactly what he was going to do—reel off the statistics and the metrics, the numbers that made sense but lacked the full scope of the opportunity you were about to present. You weren't going to let him walk away with this meeting.

You wouldn’t let him win.

Not today.

“Based on the projections, our current approach remains sustainable,” Nanami continued, pointing at his presentation slides, his finger steady. “We will continue with conservative growth, minimizing risks while maximizing short-term profitability.”

The numbers slid onto the screen with ease, each one perfectly in place, each calculation undeniably sound. You couldn’t help but appreciate his work. His plans were always tight, methodical—there was never a flaw. But there was also no room for expansion, no room for daring leaps.

That’s where you came in.

With a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, you leaned forward, picking up where he left off.

“I agree with the numbers,” you said smoothly, your voice carrying through the room. “But sustainability doesn’t always mean profitability. If we’re talking about the long-term viability of the company, we need to look at diversification.”

You let the words hang in the air for a moment, then continued, your eyes never leaving his.

“You’ve kept it safe, Nanami. But we’re not here to play it safe. We’re here to grow, to expand. You can only play it safe for so long before the market overtakes us. I say we invest in new international markets, even if it means taking on a bit more risk upfront.”

There was a slight shift in Nanami’s demeanor. A tightening in his jaw. A flare of something in his icy blue eyes. But his expression remained unreadable as he flipped to the next slide.

“And what about the supply chain issues in the Southeast Asia region?” he asked, his voice steady, but there was an edge to it. He wasn’t backing down. “Any suggestions for how we mitigate that risk?”

“More diversification,” you shot back without hesitation, your tone smooth, but firm. “We can’t afford to rely on just one region when there are so many variables outside of our control. What we need is a more global approach—one that doesn’t put all our eggs in one basket.”

The tension in the room was palpable now.

Everyone could feel it. The subtle undercurrent of animosity, the way your words were calculated to provoke, the way Nanami’s responses were sharp, measured, never losing his composure.

There was a reason everyone in the office avoided the two of you when these meetings happened. The air seemed to hum, charged with an energy that made everything else feel distant.

A low murmur swept through the room as Nanami gave his final response.

“Diversification is too risky at this point. We don’t know enough about the regions you’re suggesting, and I don’t intend to make decisions based on speculative information.” His voice was calm but firm. “Without concrete data, we can’t afford to gamble the company’s future.”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“And I’m saying we won’t have a future if we don’t take risks. Sure, we can stay on this safe path, but it’s the same one we’ve been on for years, and it’ll eventually stagnate.” You leaned forward, pushing the point. “We need to be ahead of the curve, Nanami, or we’ll get swallowed up by the competition. The world doesn’t wait for us to get comfortable.”

There was a long pause. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Nanami’s counterattack.

“You’re assuming the worst-case scenario,” Nanami replied, his voice still calm but with a subtle bite to it. “I don’t deal in worst-case scenarios. I deal in facts. And the fact is, our company is thriving just fine as it is.”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you smiled slightly, leaning back in your chair with a controlled breath.

“That’s because of people like me, Nanami. People who know that thriving isn’t enough. We need to evolve.”

It was a quiet challenge. A call to the very heart of his cautious nature, the kind of challenge that stirred something deep in both of you.

For a moment, the room was silent. No one dared to speak, sensing the standoff between the two of you. You both knew the stakes. Your points were valid, and his were just as solid. But in this game, it wasn’t just about who was right—it was about who could bend the other to their will.

And with that, the meeting continued, but the energy in the room never quite settled. The board members watched in silence, accustomed to the tension between you and Nanami by now, though none of them fully understood the true nature of the competition, of the rivalry between you two.

It wasn’t just about the work.

It never was.

And as the presentations came to an end and everyone began to file out of the room, Nanami gave you one last glance—his eyes not cold, but something else. Something unreadable, but familiar.

“Good work,” he said, almost as if he were conceding a point, though his tone remained neutral.

*-*

The day had been long—longer than usual, filled with presentations, sharp glances and the undercurrent of competition that was familiar but still exhilarating.

As the office began to empty, you found yourself walking down the hallway, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. It had been a long day, but the tension that lingered between Nanami and you after the meeting was… intoxicating. And, as always, you had a feeling you’d be running into him soon.

And by "running into him," you meant, of course, you were about to collide on purpose.

As if on cue, you turned a corner and found yourself standing in front of the conference room. The door was slightly ajar, and you could see the faint outline of Nanami’s figure inside.

You paused, your heart picking up pace, knowing what was about to happen.

This wasn't just a coincidence, it never was.

You pushed the door open, slipping inside with a barely noticeable smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Late-night work, Kento?” you asked, playing it cool, but the mischievous glint in your eyes betrayed you.

Nanami didn’t look up right away.

He was leaning over a set of papers, reviewing something quietly, and for a brief second, he gave no indication that he had even noticed you’d entered.

But you knew he had.

You always knew.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice steady but with a certain edge to it, “-didn’t expect you to be so punctual after our little ‘debate’ today.”

You took a slow step forward, your heels clicking softly as you closed the gap between you.

“Oh, I’m always punctual. You know that.”

Nanami glanced up, his gaze narrowing slightly as his eyes met yours. That familiar, teasing tension was already swirling between you. You could practically feel it crackling in the air. And, just like every time before, it was like you were the only two people in the world.

You leaned against the table, crossing your arms casually.

“So, what’s the verdict on my very risky ideas from earlier? Did I win, or are we still battling it out?”

His lips quirked slightly, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stood from the chair with slow deliberation, locking eyes with you as he did. There was a dangerous, playful glint in his gaze now.

“We both know you’re stubborn,” he said softly, a challenge laced in his tone. “But you do make a good point every now and then.”

Before you could respond, Nanami turned and locked the door behind you, the soft click of the lock reverberating through the room.

You raised an eyebrow, the realization hitting you like a slow wave. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, Kento,” you teased, but your voice softened.

He didn’t reply at first. Instead, Nanami took a step closer, closing the distance between you until there was only a whisper of air separating you. His hand reached up, fingers grazing your cheek, his touch delicate but firm. The tension between you felt so thick it could’ve suffocated anyone else in the room, but not you two.

You thrived in it.

“You know,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to your lips, “I do love how much you push me.”

“And I love how much you push me,” you whispered back, your voice low and steady, heart pounding in your chest.

His lips curled into a smirk, and before you could fully register what was happening, his hand was on the back of your neck, pulling you toward him with a force that sent your pulse racing. Your lips met in a sudden, heated kiss.

No words. No preamble.

Just pure, undeniable fire.

The kiss was a clash of desire and frustration—a mingling of rivalry and affection. You could feel his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded by tangling your fingers into his shirt, tugging him even nearer.

Between kisses, Nanami murmured softly against your lips, each word barely audible but intense.

“You were right, you know. Your presentation was damn good. Risky as hell, but good.”

You could feel a smile tugging at your lips even as you kissed him back.

“Yeah? I know. I did well.”

He chuckled softly, the sound deep in his chest. “You always do,” he muttered, his voice soft and warm despite the heat of the kiss.

His hands moved to your face, cupping it gently as he deepened the kiss, his thumbs tracing the curve of your jaw. The intensity of the moment was enough to make you forget everything around you. In this room, there was no competition, no rivalry—just you two. Just him. Just the way you were always meant to be.

And then, between frantic kisses, his voice dropped into a breathless whisper. “Marry me.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, blinking in confusion. “What?”

He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you with the same affection that always made your heart skip a beat.

“Marry me again,” he repeated, his voice thick with sincerity. “You already have my heart, but I want to do this all over again.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and joyful. “You already asked me, Ken.”

He grinned, his hands pulling you closer again. “Then let me ask you again. Marry me.”

You held up your hand, showing him the ring that already glimmered on your finger. “You really don’t need to ask. I already said yes.”

Nanami pressed his lips to yours once more, his kiss warm and tender this time, as if every part of him was soaking in the quiet joy of the moment. In between kisses, you heard him whisper,

“I don’t care. I want to ask you every day.”

And as the kiss deepened once more, you couldn’t help but think that, despite all the competition, all the tension, all the heated moments between you—they were all just a reminder of how much you really loved each other.

And in the end, that was all that mattered.

A/N: yeah so idk my brain just couldn't not think of this. i might remake this into a longer fic bc I LOVE this premise so much

Masterlist

:)

[lalasimmer]

How to convert Sims 4 3D CAS Rooms to Sims 3

Disclaimer: If you’re not familiar with Blender/TSRW/UVs then this tutorial may not be for you. If you don’t have Sims 4 Studio which needs the Sims 4 base game (or don’t know how to extract the meshes without it) this tutorial may not be for you. Honestly it’s pretty straight forward, but there’s a lot of trial and error and going in game and out of game checking placement, etc. I use Blender 4.1 for this. The older Blender versions annoy me now lol I’m sorry 😅 but you should still be able to do the same things in the older versions. I'm trying to make this as easy as possible. I’m here to answer any questions though 💕 Tutorial below

Things you’ll need:

Blender (whatever version you prefer)

Sims 4 Studio

TSRW ( I use version 2.0.86)

My Christmas CAS Room here

My TSRW work file here

Tutorial:

Find a Sims 4 CAS room that you like and open it up in Sims4Studio. This is the one I'll be using for the tutorial.

In the Texture tab, export the textures. The only textures that matter are the first 3 diffuse. Go to the Meshes tab and export the mesh, it will save as a .blend file. After that you can close out of Sims4Studio.

Open my Christmas CAS Room in TSRW. You'll get this message. Hit ignore and don't send. We only need this file as a reference to resize the SIms 4 CAS room. Export the mesh as an obj, name it whatever you like. You can close TSRW for now.

Open Blender and open the .blend file you exported from Sims4Studio. Make sure to delete studio_mesh_0 as it's just the shadow map and we don't need that. This is what mine looks like after fixing the textures.

Then import the wavefront obj you just exported from TSRW. Again we're just using this as a size reference.

This is what it looks like after I added the obj. I scaled, moved, and rotated the room to match up as close as I could with my reference mesh. When you have it lined up to your liking you can delete the reference mesh. I usually import the sims 3 body to see where my sim would be in CAS as well so feel free to do that too.

Now we have to separate the objects that use transparency in the scene to their own group. The transparent objects will always be located on studio_mesh_1. I usually do this in UV mode. Make sure UV Sync Selection is on. Where the red arrow is, that's the UV Selection button. It's blue so that means its on.

Tip: If you're using the same Blender version I am (I'm not sure if the older versions below Blender 3.0 do this) you can disconnect the alpha in shader editor and then you can easily see what uses transparency because it has a black background like the plants. Don't worry about the one outside the window as that's on the backdrop image and doesn't show in CAS.

Important: Also, make sure you delete the back of the mirror frame or it will show through the mirror in game. I usually select it in the UV editor as well and delete it.

After selecting all the objects that use transparency, I go to the 3D viewport window and press P, then selection. Now they're on their own layer as you can see. That's a very important step so please don't miss it.

Sims 4 CAS Rooms don't have a closed room like ts3 and if you don't add walls/ceiling with planes you'll be able to see that it in CAS. You can do this in any way you're comfortable with. If you don't understand how to do it feel free to ask me. For this tutorial I will not be doing this perfectly lol I've done enough rooms and I'm just trying to teach here 😩

Okay now last is renaming groups to import into TSRW. Make sure it's in this exact order and uses the exact group numbers.

Group 0 - Mirror

Group 1 - Windows/Curtains

Group 2 - View outside the window

Group 3 - Walls

Group 4 - Objects with transparency

Depending on the CAS Room you convert, yours may not have a mirror you know. You can delete groups in TSRW, experiment, feel free to ask me questions as well.

After renaming the groups, select only the groups you renamed and export as an obj. Make sure that object groups is checked so that they can stay in groups.

Open TSRW and open the testroom_cas.wrk file.

After opening the file you'll see this exact room in this tutorial lol because I had to test some things first 😅

Import the CAS room you converted from. You'll get these two messages. Click yes on the first and no on the second.

Import your textures (yours may be different than mine depends on the converter) but most have been the same that I've seen. Group 0 is the mirror it doesn't require a texture. Group 1 and Group 4 usually have the same texture.

After export to sims3pack or export as package file. Make sure you compress your files and you should be good to test your CAS room in game.

If you would like to make your own from the original ts3 cas room, I would suggest watching this Youtube video (it's for TS4 but it still applies and is helpful) and the link to the original ts3 cas room is here. Since we can convert ts4 to ours you could probably just build your own and go from there as well.

Thanks to @mookymilksims for testing things for me and converting her own. If you would like to try this tutorial out and experiment with room placements using @boringbones Ultra wide CAS mod which changes the field of view in cas so that you can see the whole cas room, it is here. I didn't use it for mine, but that's only because I found out about it after from Mooky lol and I'm tired of converting them 😅 but feel free to ask me any questions if you need help 😊

[whatdidtheydotomygirljinx]

Jinx just never really liked Vander that much.

One of the things that, to me, seemed like a main theme in Jinx's arc in season 1 was the contrast between her two families, and how her switch from Vander's daughter to Silco's drastically changes the way her personality takes shape.

And I hate that the fandom, and now the show, too, has reduced Silco to an unhealthy influence in Jinx's life, pushing her towards her "bad" side (being Jinx) when, for all his flaws... he gives her a better childhood than she ever had with Vander. The first three episodes of the first season, to me, when I watched them, illustrate quite clearly that Powder feels unhappy in her family life. She is the most mal-adjusted of Vander's kids. Her older brother constantly berates her, and it's quite clearly having a big effect on her self-image. She later takes up the Jinx name and persona once she feels like she has become irredeemable as a person. Her other brother never defends her. Vi is the only one who is there for her, and they care for each other, but at the same time you can see there's still a little insecurity in their relationship. Vi is worried that maybe Powder is indeed too weak, and Powder worries that maybe Vi does indeed see her as a Jinx like her brother does.

And when it comes to Vander... he's just not really all that present in her life. And I don't blame him, the man has four kids to take care of, on top of keeping things running in the Undercity. It's clearly not his intention. But it doesn't change the fact that he's not there for Powder, not as much as she needs. To me, when I watched the first season, it seemed like Vander was a figure that felt far away to Powder, someone that she admired but also feared being completely herself around, and someone that she ultimately wished to be closer to than she actually was. It's worth mentioning that Jinx never says his name post time skip, and he is not a hallucination for her, not until Vi brings him up in the finale. Hell, Claggor is somehow a hallucination for her and he never even speaks. Vander was just not an influential figure in Jinx's life.

I always found the scene at the end of ep3 of s1 fascinating, because Powder never once mourns Vander. She never once cries for him and never once says his name. When she sees his dead body, she becomes shocked and starts crying, but it's not actually what breaks her. What breaks her is Vi's rejection. Had it just been that she accidentally caused the deaths of her brothers and adoptive father, she would not have crumbled mentally. It's Vi's rejection that destroys her. Now, of course, a little girl that cares more about her sister's affection towards her than the lives of her family members is kinda messed up, but that's what makes her character interesting. And we can see that that little girl doesn't go anywhere, as Jinx displays the exact same one-mindness about her sister. Because Jinx and Powder were never really that different, after all.

She is quite clearly placed with her back to Vander's body, that she never turns to, barely looks at, only enough to recognize him and see he's dead, and never says the name of. She's turned towards Vi, calling for Vi, crying because of Vi, and no one else. Heck, Vi had just been crying over his body a few moment ago. Vi is clearly distraught over his death. Vi is devastated, she literally punches her sister and curses her in the exact worst possible way she can, in the way she know it will hurt her sister the most. But Powder... she just honestly dgaf.

So to then hear Jinx say this line in season 2...

...is just straight up jarring. I was pulled out of the story when I heard this. This is Jinx saying this to Vi. This kinda makes it seem like it was Jinx who was most attached to Vander, or at least that she was just as attached to him as Vi was. Which is just not how things seemed in the story at literally any point until this one. And then season 2 continues this way, and somehow makes Jinx seem like the closest daughter to Vander. Flipping Warwick literally acts more attached to Jinx than Vander ever did to Powder. Like literally. Season 1 clearly sets up that Vi is the favorite daughter, and then they just... flip it?? Warwick cares more for Jinx and responds better to her than to Vi. It's actually insane. It's true they sanitized Jinx's character to hell and back this season, but this is a straight-up rewrite. I can't wrap my mind around why they did this. Plus, the entirety of act 2 they set up this weird and pointless arc of Jinx rekindling her relationship with Vander or something... and like literally her story was genuinely never about that.

(This COULD have been Vi's story. And that might have actually been cool, and made sense. Maybe Vi is the one who finds him, and she is the one who helps him calm down. And then she brings Jinx, and maybe Jinx is terrified because she was never that close to Vander, and then she literally killed him, so seeing him again is the last thing she wants. Maybe VI is the one who tells Jinx that "he was your dad, too", which would make A LOT more sense, and maybe that's the first time that Jinx thinks that oh, yeah, he was... And then maybe they have a cute moment where Vander forgives her. Or maybe she sees the state he's in right now and loses it completely. Or maybe they look at each other and they both see the monster each of them has become. And then maybe Vi looks down at the enforcer uniform she's wearing, and, privately, sees it too. Idk. The things we could have had.)

Silco was actually a good dad to Jinx, in all the ways that Vander wasn't. He gives her all the attention that she never had before. He not only listens to her, but actively asks for her side of the story. He never insults her, and he defends her against Sevika. He trusts her and gives her opportunities to prove she's capable. She goes from being one of four siblings, and getting lost in the shuffle and often ending up feeling forgotten and alone, to being the most important child, always taken into consideration and almost put on a pedestal by her dad (this, like, has to have cured some inner wounds, i think).

Silco understands Jinx better than any other character in the show, and I'm genuinely sad that we didn't get to see any flashback of Jinx growing up with him. Because their relationship was so unique, and so integral to Jinx's character and to the rest of the story, that the fact that we never get to see any other glimpse into their bond is just...

As a final note, I'd also like to add that I dislike when people say that Silco "groomed" Jinx. I think a much more realistic analysis is that he enabled her. And as for all the times he tells Jinx that Vi "betrayed her", that's just a reflection of his own trauma, and also because he fears that if Jinx knew Vi was alive, she would go back to her and leave him (which, considering what goes down in the s1 finale, not an unfounded fear). It's wrong that he does that, but it's not out of malicious intent (also tbh Jinx never really seems to believe him anyway).

And for all the people who say that Silco "turned Jinx into a terrorist" (dumbest people in this fandom fr, im sorry), that's just straight up not true. Powder was already like that. That is quite literally why Silco adopts her. Because he sees that she's like him. Silco would not have taken Powder in if he thought she was just a cute, innocent kid who was orphaned (to, what, raise her for years so that, MAYBE when she's older, she MIGHT be useful to him? when they meet he doesn't know she's the one that caused the explosion, he just knows that she's been abandoned by Vi). This is the kid who thought playing around with explosives was a fun hobby. This is the kid who giggled at the thought of hurting others. This is the kid who already suffered from explosive emotions. This is the kid who saw her father and her brothers dead, because of her, and all she cared about was whether her sister was mad at her because of it. This is the kid who throws herself at the first person she sees, someone who her sister hates, who is the cause of all this destruction, and with an anger that shocks most viewers, declares that Vi is not her sister anymore. She is livid in that one moment.

Powder already had it in her from the beginning. And it's also ok to like a character (and to write one) even if they are not 100% morally pure in every single way under the sun, cause that is quite literally what stories are for.

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: while imani processes her lingering pain over jameson’s constant betrayals, jameson reels from her inattention. torn between loyalty to her best friend and processing her own feelings, genie grapples with guilt and anxiety while ej does his best to take care of her. sloane attempts to celebrate the split between jameson and imani but genie intervenes.

Warnings: toxic relationship, them b words! (watch them b words!), explicit terminology, dirty talk (kinda), usage of the n-word (if you white and read it, you owe us $20) -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.6k Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

1 week after Sloane's party

Jameson leaned against the kitchen counter, his phone clutched in his hand as he stared at the screen in surprise. The image of Christian reflected back at him and he briefly wondered when he even started following that nigga. A quick glance to the left-hand corner told him it was Imani's Instagram account. Imani? With Christian? He couldn't even see that bastard's face but knew he was probably happy as fuck to be with Imani.

Look who came to visit.

The caption made his stomach churn. There was nothing downright explicit or implicated more but the simple fact that she had taken the picture, thought of the caption, and posted it? It made him sick. He knew for a fact she couldn't stand him. After things ended abruptly between Christian and Genie, Imani hadn't seen it for him. Ever. But now they were close enough for him to visit?

Texts left on read. Calls that went straight to voicemail. The silence was deafening.

Jameson immediately left the app and went to his messages, texting her a blitz of...admittedly emotional responses. She still hadn't responded to any of the ones before. He put his phone face down on the counter, trying to rein in his temper. He didn’t need to read the comments to know what they said. Fans were undoubtedly cheering it on. Shit talking about how 'cute' he probably was. Wondering if she had finally replaced him.

What if she had? What if the space where he stood was going to belong to another person? Not just Christian -- anybody? That was enough to turn his stomach.

Jameson's hand clenched into a fist and he turned around, hitting the first thing he saw...which so happened to be EJ's fridge. His fist dented the medal but it hurt him a hell of a lot more than it did the inanimate object.

“Ay, muhfucka! I got that imported from France. Watch that shit. What's your problem?” Jameson glanced up to see EJ rounding the corner, a cup of coffee in his hand. He couldn't quite blame his best friend for being irritated but he was going through some shit.

“Her Instagram.” Jameson muttered, nodding toward his phone. EJ walked over, picked up the phone, and whistled low when he saw the post. “Ain't this a bitch.” He scrolled through the comments briefly before setting the phone down. “They have a ship name too. Chrismani sound stupid tho.”

Jameson glared at him and EJ quickly put the phone down, shrugging. "My bad, man." “What am I supposed to do? She’s not answering my calls. She’s ignoring my texts. And now she’s letting him—” Jameson cut himself off, shaking his head. He didn't know what the fuck the two had going on but either way, he didn't like that shit.

“Letting him what? Exist?” EJ raised an eyebrow. “Because that’s what it looks like to me. You give this nigga way too much power, man. Genie has a history with him, right? You know Imani. She not going too far with him."

Jameson frowned at EJ. He was right but he also knew..."Please. If you saw the girl you loved posted up with somebody else a week after ignoring your calls, you'd be tripping too." He didn't know what to do when it came to Imani. “She told me to choose. I could be friends with Sloane or I could be with her.”

EJ set his coffee down and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as he stared at his best friend. “Okay? So Sloane's out. Now what?" Jameson began to rub his hand over his fist, rolling his eyes in agitation. "It's not that easy!"

EJ cocked his head, leaning against the counter as he stared at Jameson with wide eyes. "Fuck you mean it's not that easy? Lose a friend, gain a girlfriend. Besides, Genie don't like her and Genie likes everybody. That's how you know something is up with her."

Jameson sighed softly, reaching to snatch his phone off the counter again. EJ had a point. Genie and Sloane had fallen out around the time he and Imani had become serious. He never knew what happened but wanted them both to feel like they could count on him. He didn't want to take sides. His friend vs his sister? He didn't want to decide. "Sloane doesn't have anybody."

"She had a house full of people at that party last week." "None of those people give a shit about her." "And you do?" "Of course I do." "You want that girl?" "No! No. I'm so fucking tired of being accused of that shit. I've known her since she was fifteen. I knew her when she could barely look you in the eyes when she was talking to you. She was lonely as fuck. And she's still lonely. I'm sorry I feel guilty abandoning her."

Jameson saw EJ's face change. From confusion to understanding all in an instant and for some reason -- he hated it. "You keep saying you're 'abandoning' her. You're not, man. She's a grown up." Jameson braced himself, knowing what EJ was going to say next. "She's not you and you are not your father."

He shut it down within a second, shaking his head as he quickly moved out of the kitchen. His father was a forbidden subject. Nobody brought the man up. Not his mother, not the press. Nobody. As far as the world was concerned, it was just Anais and James Lucas against the world. "It's not about that, man. I just don't want to abandon my friend."

"Do you want Imani back?" EJ called out to him, following. "Of course I do." "Let Sloane go. You can't let her think Christian is the only muhfucka that cares about how she feels. Let her go."

Jameson stared at him, the words sinking in.

“You’ve got options,” EJ said, approaching him and patting his hand against Jameson's shoulder. “Write her a song. Send her flowers. Show up at the studio if you have to. You flew to fucking Italy within a minute. Why are you hesitating now? Don't sit there and let this nigga come take what's yours."

Jameson hesitated. “You think that’ll work?”

EJ shrugged. “I think it’s better than...you know. Punching my shit and stalking her on Instagram. You’ve always been a fighter, J. Don’t stop now.”

Jameson nodded slowly, his mind already spinning with ideas. EJ clapped him on the shoulder before heading out of the kitchen, leaving Jameson alone with his thoughts. He unlocked the phone in his hand and went back to Instagram, staring at the picture of Christian on her page. It was bullshit but EJ was right. He couldn't give up on her. He swore he never would.

The texts came through fast, almost as if he didn't have to think about what he was sending. She didn't take any pleasure in his reaction. Not really. But Imani needed something to flip that damn switch in Jameson's mind. He needed to know she wasn't playing. The mention of Genie made her heart hurt though. She texted her before she posted the picture of Christian but there had been no response. There hadn't been a response afterward either and Imani was praying she didn't hold this against her.

She forced herself not to finish reading Jameson's texts. She closed out the messages and went back to Instagram. Cross-legged on her couch, the soft glow of her phone screen illuminating her face in the dim living room, she scrolled through the comments on her post.

The likes were climbing rapidly, as they always did. Thousands of comments flooded in, a mix of excitement, speculation, and blatant nosiness.

"With your bestie ex? Oh, messy Mani." "What about Jameson tho? 👀" "Girl, you’re glowing without him. Keep winning!"

Her thumb hovered over that last comment, her heart clenching. Glowing without him. Was she?

She tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, leaning back against the couch. The praise and speculation didn’t fill the hollow ache that had been gnawing at her for days. It wasn’t about Christian—he was nothing. She felt absolutely nothing for the man. She got the vibe that he wanted something with her but Imani couldn't tell if he was delusional or just stupid to really think she'd give him the time of day after he was with her best friend. Then again...People thought that's exactly what she was doing.

The post wasn’t about him though. It was about the one person who wasn’t tagged, wasn’t mentioned, but was still present in every corner of her mind.

Jameson.

He kept letting her down. Choosing other people over her. She wouldn't him do it again. She closed her eyes, and the memories came rushing back like a tidal wave.

It was late, and the city lights outside their hotel room window shimmered like stars. She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, the air thick with tension. Jameson stood in front of her, his hands trembling as he admitted the unthinkable. The night he ruined their relationship. All their problems went back to that one moment. “I slept with her.” he’d said, his voice raw and cracking. “I'm so sorry. Mani, I...I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. I was drunk. I swear to god.” Her heart had shattered in that moment, the weight of his words crushing her. She remembered the way her chest had tightened, the disbelief that had turned into anger, then grief. They were done, she knew that. He knew that. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? It's fuck me, huh?!” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. Her entire body shaking. “I trusted you. I gave you everything.” “Mani, please,” he’d begged, dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching for her hands. She snatched them away, trying to get up from the bed but Jameson grasped her by the waist, keeping her trapped. She pushed against his shoulders, twisting out of his grasp as tears filled her eyes. “I'm going to fix it, baby. I swear to god, I'll fix it. I'm sorry.” "Let me go! You can't fix this shit!" "Yes, I can. I can fix it. I'll be better." "Jameson. You just told me you fucked another bitch and you really think I'm going to give you a chance to fix it? We're done. It's over."

She opened her eyes, the memory dissipating like smoke, but the sting remained. She reached for her phone again, scrolling back to her post. The comments about Jameson were multiplying, each one a reminder of the life they’d shared and the pain he’d caused.

She couldn’t go back to that. She wouldn’t.

Her thumb hovered over the delete button for a moment before she pulled her hand away. No, she thought. Let him have to keep seeing it. Let him wonder. Let the tags in the comments be a reminder. “You won't get to the chance to play me again.” she whispered, her voice steady.

With that, she exited the app, her resolve solidifying. If Jameson wanted her back, he’d have to do more than beg. He’d have to prove he was worthy of her trust—and she wasn’t sure she’d ever believe that again.

Imani opened her texts, shooting a message to her engineer and manager. She had written so much shit when she was trying to get over the betrayal Jameson had done -- it was enough for albums. Why not use this pain to start a new chapter in her life? She spent so much of her time worrying about him. It was time to worry about herself. Her music. Her career.

Genie had done her best to put it out of her mind. The picture was exploding all over social media. She'd been tagged in it almost as much as Jameson was and each time made her chest tighten. The knot of anxiety she’d been carrying all day pulling tighter. She promised to meet EJ for lunch and had arrived early, sitting primly and perfectly -- covered in Chanel. Her beautiful dark coils pressed perfectly and swept back in a french curl. She looked much better than she felt.

She had known Imani was going to post it. The text had come hours before, but Genie hadn’t responded. She’d stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. What could she say? No one knew the whole story of she and Christian. All she told Imani was that it was over. But shouldn't that have been enough? Of all the men to use to make Jameson jealous, why him?

She had complicated feelings about Imani playing with Jameson's feelings as well -- but it wasn't as if she didn't have good reason. He was her brother but he was an idiot sometimes. The image was out in the world and Genie felt that her silence was almost complicity in hurting Jameson. If the gossip was correct, Sloane was a thorn in their relationship and Genie knew a surefire way to get her out.

EJ finally arrived and Genie glanced up to see him making his way to their table -- led by the hostess. A smile curved her lips as the two maintained eye contact. She had never been so enamored with a man before. Even that crush she had on Christian had been bullshit compared to how EJ made her feel. They kept their relationship fairly casual. After their night at Sloane's party, he had been with her every step of the way, reassuring her and being patient with her. He was more than she deserved.

Before he sat down, he came to her side of the table and kissed her softly. It was a brief touch of his lips but the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed. She felt the tightening of her chest relax and for a minute, she felt like she could breathe. "Hi, baby." He told her softly, moving to take his seat as she poured him a glass of wine. His sharp eyes flicking to the phone on the table. “I guess you've seen it.,” he said, nodding toward it. “Jamie isn't too happy either.”

Genie hesitated, then nodded to confirm she saw it. “She said it was to make Jameson jealous, but…” She trailed off, placing the bottle back on the table. "I don't know. It seems so out of character for her. Mani can be petty but she doesn't waste her time with people she doesn't give a fuck about. I don't think she understands what she's getting into."

EJ nodded, lifting his hand to gesture to a waiter for a glass of water. He was totally different from her. He worried about their friends but Genie took it totally to heart. Probably because she loved them both. EJ loved Jameson -- she was sure he hadn't decided how he felt about Imani yet. "I told him to go get his girl back. But I kind of regret it now."

Genie prepared herself to defend Imani. Jameson was her brother but she wasn't ready to absolve him of his sins. Especially when the reason their relationship was so chaotic was because he cheated a year ago. "They love each other so that wasn't a mistake. They just...they can't seem to get it together.," she said softly. “This is going to make everything worse. For her. For Jameson. For everyone.”

EJ leaned back, studying her with a mix of concern. “Did you tell her that?”

“I...I couldn't." Genie sighed, then immediately regretted the admission. “I mean, I wanted to. But what was I supposed to say? ‘Don’t post him because he’s a jerk who’s going to ruin your life?’ I didn't want her to think I was jealous.”

EJ raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Genie opened her mouth to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. She had been jealous at the party. It had caused a twinge to her heart to see a man she used to want choosing other women over her. Women she loved deeply and respected. He had already taken Sloane. Now Imani? She had been scared. But as she gazed at EJ, she knew he was one of a kind. There wasn't a man like him in the world. How dare she be jealous over a man who wasn't worth it when one who was sat in front of her. “I’m not jealous. Anymore.,” she said finally, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I’m scared. For her. For Jameson. I don’t want to see either of them hurt. Between Sloane and Christian, their relationship could easily snap.”

EJ’s expression softened. He reached out and took her hand, brushing his thumb back and forth across her skin, “You worry too much about other people, Genie. It’s gonna tear you apart if you let it.”

Genie looked down at his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “I can’t help it,” she murmured.

“I know. You got the kind of heart I love. But maybe it’s time you focused on you,” EJ said gently. “Let them figure it out. You’ve got your own life to live, Genie. Your own man to worry about."

"Oh? Are you my man?" "Didn't you cum on my face a few times? I could have sworn last night that you begged me to --"

Genie's eyes went wide as she peered around the restaurant to see if anyone heard him. No one did but her reaction made EJ laugh. She snatched her hand from his, reaching over to slap his wrist.

"Stop it! Don't say that out loud!" "It's true. You did. And you're gonna do it again when we leave here." "Is that all you're going to do?" "For now." "What if I want more?" "I gotta make sure you're ready. So stop babysitting everybody else and let me take care of you for a change." "Yes, sir." "Ooh. Keep that up. I like that."

She smiled faintly, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. For the rest of the lunch, she and EJ didn't mention Jameson and Imani but her gaze kept straying to the phone. Thoughts of Christian and Sloane filtered through her mind. For her last act of babysitting -- she was going to make sure they didn't ruin Imani and Jameson's second chance. If they couldn't get it right, it had to be on their own terms. Not anybody else's.

It was nightfall by the time Genie managed to convince EJ to let her out of bed. He asked her to let everyone figure their shit out but she had to get this out. Once she promised him she'd wash her hands of it after talking to Jameson, he gave her a kiss and let her go. Texting Jameson and telling him it was an emergency was probably dramatic but he shared his location with her. When she pulled up to the recording studio, he was waiting outside -- leaning against his Range Rover.

He watched her curiously as she parked and got out, lifting his hand to press to her shoulder as he escorted her inside -- like an annoyed but worried older brother would. When they were settled in a quiet, private studio, finally he leaned in and nudged her arm. "Talk. You kind of scaring me."

They sat in front of the mixing console, a track playing lowly in the background. Genie could tell it was one of his. She knew his voice anywhere but hadn't heard this song before. She understood a few words here and there but couldn't catch the rhythm of the song. Jamie looked tense, his shoulders stiff. She knew he hadn't been able to shake the thoughts of Imani and Christian from his mind.

“What’s going on?”

Genie hesitated, the weight of what she was about to say pressing down on her. She took a deep breath and shrugged out of her jacket. "There’s a lot you don’t know. Things I’ve been keeping to myself because I didn’t want to -- Well, I wasn't brave enough to do what Imani did. I didn't want to make you choose. But after everything that’s happened -- Imani, that post, the way Christian's been acting -- I can’t stay quiet anymore.”

Jameson’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes as he grasp her hands in his. “What did he do?”

Genie exhaled shakily, her voice trembling as she began. “Christian and I -- it was a fluke from the beginning. Maybe I was too presumptive but I...I told Sloane how I felt. She encouraged me to pursue him. So I did. I put myself out there." Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the way she had embarrassed herself. The sting of being rejected had faded but losing Sloane -- knowing what she had done? That would never go away.

"I found them together. At your afterparty for the Grammys. They were...Well, they were fucking. In your pool house. I didn't say a word. I turned around and left but I confronted Sloane afterward." Genie took a breath and forced herself to continue. "She didn’t even deny it. Said it was no big deal because...it wasn't like he wanted me anyway. He liked someone else. She knew and didn't tell me. I stopped talking to her that night.”

She felt his grip around her fingers tighten for a moment before they relaxed. The look on his face was...a lot like hers the night Sloane had shown who she was. Devasated. Confused. Disbelief. “She said that to you?”

Genie nodded, her throat tightening as tears fell. “I told Christian I was sorry. Can you believe it? I apologized for not being who he wanted. It was embarrassing. I'm starting to think who he wanted...was Imani.”

Jameson shook his head but all the pieces were falling into place. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her.”

“Yes,” Genie said, her voice firmer now as she pulled her hands free and wiped her eyes. “And it’s why I think you need to let her go, J. Do what Imani said. Choose her. Sloane only cares about herself and she’s only going to drag you down.”

Jameson leaned back in his seat. “She was your friend. I wouldn't even know her if it wasn't for you. You loved her before anybody else and she...she did that to you.”

“Yes,” Genie said gently. “If anybody knows what it's like to see the best in Sloane, it's me. I always saw it. Until she showed me something else, Jameson. Don't wait until she shows you.”

He looked up at her then, a spark of anger in his eyes. "And Christian?”

Genie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don't know. He may really like Imani but she...she deserves better." She may be there to help Jameson fix things but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that Imani was just trying to make him jealous. Loyalty to both kept her conflicted.

They sat in silence for a while so Jameson could process everything. He was distracted, clearly overwhelmed, but she knew what he would do when he spoke next. "I love you, you know?" he told Genie softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You and your dad...you two gave me and Ma everything we needed to feel like a family. You're my sister, Genie. I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you."

She gave him a faint smile, tears filling her eyes again. For somebody who could write music, he had never been eloquent with her about his feelings. They irritated each other like siblings but she had never truly said it to him. "I love you too." Genie said softly. “I wouldn't ever let anybody hurt you either. That's why Sloane has to get out of our lives. Now.”

Jameson nodded, agreeing without words. “I threw everything away with Imani to be loyal to somebody who didn't deserve it.”

Genie reached out, squeezing his knee. “It may not be over. Try it. Let her know you choose her. Over anything. Even if you guys don't work it out, at least you’ll know you did everything you could. But you can’t move forward if you’re still holding onto people like Sloane.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally.

Genie smiled faintly, relief washing over her. “Good. Now, go clean up your mess.”

He gave her a small, rueful laugh. “I'm not good at that.”

“Get good at it.,” she said, standing and placing a kiss to his forehead...before slapping him on the back of the neck. Jameson flinched but only stared up at her. “Consider this my retirement from worrying about you and Imani. My man told me to stop.”

His brows furrowed as she turned to leave the studio. "What man?!" he called out after her. Genie ignored him and continued on to her car to get back home to EJ.

God had to have a sense of humor. No sooner had he watched Genie zip off in her car, he'd gotten a text from Sloane. A dinner invitation. He had been seconds from texting a denial but he knew this message was better delivered in person -- so he agreed to show up. He spent the entire drive to her place stewing in anger -- pissed at her and himself. He had spent months bringing this girl around Genie, around Imani. Begging them to give her a shot. He hadn't even asked why she and Genie had fallen apart. He was a shit friend and a shit boyfriend.

The elevator doors slid open, and Jameson stepped into the hallway leading to Sloane’s penthouse. His jaw tight and he had no idea how to release his tension. He had no idea what he planned to say. There was so much in his head. All he wanted to do was yell at her. Make her give him a valid reason for the shit she'd been doing. The weight of Genie’s confession bore down on him, and the idea of confronting Sloane left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He knocked twice, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. Moments later, the door swung open, and Sloane appeared, her face lighting up like the sun.

“Jamie! Just in time! Dinner is almost done.” she exclaimed, pulling the door wide for him to enter. When he did so, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Hi. I missed you.”

Her perfume was light and airy. In another place, another time, he probably would have complimented her on it and told her that he missed her too. And that would have been the wrong thing to do. Becoming disillusioned with Sloane made him notice everything. The way she clung to him, the way she looked up at him with bright eyes, the darkened apartment, the Ella Fitzgerald album -- one of his favorites -- playing softly in the background. He stood stiffly, not hugging her back but it didn't seem to phase her. She took her time hugging him, only pulling back when she deemed it was over.

Jameson’s expression didn’t waver. “We just saw each other last week at the party, Sloane,” he said, his voice cutting sharper than the edge of a blade.

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his tone. “I know. It still feels like it’s been a minute…”

Jameson stepped further away from her, his movements deliberate. He glanced around, noting the intimate setup of the dining table—a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a single candle flickering softly. The oven lit up with the smell of a dinner that he couldn't quite place. Genie had lit the match but everything was ablaze now. Imani's accusations were crystal clear in his mind. God, she had been right.

“I saw Imani posted Christian on Instagram,” Sloane said, her voice carefully measured. “I’m sorry…you don’t deserve that.”

Jameson’s jaw tightened as he stood with his back with her, trying to get a grasp on his anger. “Imani's mine to worry about.”

“I-I know,” Sloane stammered, moving closer to him. Her voice softened, dripping with concern. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Jamie.” She reached out for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. “You can call me if you need anything.”

Jameson didn’t move. His demeanor was rigid, his body language screaming discomfort. He didn’t bother to touch her hand, his gaze fixed on hers with an intensity that made her falter.

“Is everything okay?” Sloane asked, her voice uncertain. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, confused smile. “You’re not acting like my Jamie.”

"Did you fuck Christian?" he asked her abruptly, tilting his head to look at her. He saw it for a second. For one second, she looked caught off guard. She looked...exposed. But then the guard went up, her brow furrowed and she gave him a laugh. He could see her about to lie. "Don't. Don't you dare lie to me. I've had enough of that."

She hesitated but then moved away, heading back to the table. She tripped over her own heels and clumsily poured herself a glass of wine. Jameson finally moved, the tension draining from his body the more he confronted her. Sloane lifted the glass to gulp down wine before Jameson continued on. "Genie told me everything." He watched her choke on the liquid, leaning forward as she coughed loudly and took deep breaths. "And I got to thinking -- if she could do that to her best friend...what else could she do?"

She turned wide eyes to him as she continued to try to catch her breath. "Christian was...a mistake." She gasped out, shaking her head. "It was just a night. We were drunk! We got carried away!"

He heard the same mistakes he gave Imani and his stomach churned again, shaking his head. "You destroyed someone who loved you. Better than anyone else. Do you think that excuse works? You hurt the kindest fucking person in the world. And you hurt her because you could. You humiliated her! And you act like nothing happened! You didn't even have the fucking decency to tell her you're sorry!"

Sloane’s lips parted, but no words came out. She looked at him, searching for some sign of forgiveness, but all she could see was disappointment and anger. It's all he had left for her.

“I believed in you. Imani told me to choose and I...I said I wouldn't but I did. I fucking chose you because I thought you were a good person. I thought you needed me. A friend.” Jameson continued, his voice low and steady.

"I do need you!" "You don't need me! You want me. There's a fucking difference, Sloane!"

He heard his phone notifications go off but he ignored it. Even when it continued, he kept going. His gaze didn't leave Sloane's. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached out for him but he sidestepped her hand. She clenched her fingers tightly and sobbed quietly but he didn’t flinch. "Jamie, please. I’m sorry. I never meant—”

“Are you in love with me?” he interrupted, his tone weary. He didn't need the confession but he asked anyway. “If you ever cared about me, tell me the truth.”

Sloane froze before she gave the slightest nod. That nod hit him hard in the gut.

"You want to hear what I feel?" He asked her and watched as she closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. She knew he didn't love her. She couldn't bear to hear the words. But Jameson figured it out now. A hard lesson to learn but...he had to give them to her. "I love Imani. I love everything about her. I love her so much that I don't know how to live without her. She makes me want to be better. I love the way she loves Genie. I love the way she loves me. And I gave that up twice. I keep hurting her and I did it again. This time...for you. And I regret it."

The more he spoke, the more she cried. "I'm sorry I brought us to this. You can blame me for it. Not Imani. Goodbye, Sloane." He moved towards the door and she followed him. Her phone rang out loud and she hesitated, tears blurring her eyes as she turned back to the kitchen. He didn't stop moving.

As he reached for the handle, she called out, her voice breaking. “Jamie, wait—Please! Don't leave me.”

He paused but didn’t turn around. Guilt grabbed a hold of him again but he pushed it away, knowing that enabling Sloane would only hurt her further...so he opened the door and walked out. It clicked shut behind him and for a moment, he stood there, trying to catch his breath. He heard her scream, throw things across the room, and yell out for him -- but he pretended he didn't.

Jameson walked towards the elevators, the anger he had carried up with him left behind in her place. He fished his phone out of his pocket, pushing the button for the ground floor as he read each text that came through but one caught his attention: a text from EJ that contained a link to Apple Music and an article.

R&B Sensation Imani releases surprise EP, Diary

As he browsed the article, the elevator doors pinged open and an avalanche of notifications from Instagram came in. Even more than when Imani posted the picture of Christian. To make matters worse, he got a shit ton of texts from friends and acquaintances. Half of them were the fucking eye emoji.

"Shit." He muttered to himself.

[officerwhitmore]

’Fuck, you look good with your lips on my cock,’ Tony murmured, his breathy voice still accented with that southern twang. Of all the compliments he’d given Vincent on his appearance, it was the only one Vincent could bring himself to believe. Vincent moaned low in his chest as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down the underside of Tony's cock, smoothing his tongue over velvety skin with each one. It was intoxicating how much Tony seemed to enjoy it, hips tilting up and down in short little thrusts as Vincent licked and sucked, an undeniable tell that just this exploration alone had him eager to plunge his cock straight into him. There was power in the fact that Vincent was capable of making this man ache; power in the way Tony’s fingers gradually tightened in his hair, breaths growing a little louder, the muscles in his stomach flexing as he held himself back from doing whatever it was he was clearly eager to do.

Vincent moaned again as he licked his way up Tony’s cock in one long, wet stripe, holding Tony’s gaze as best as he could with his attention occasionally flicking down to the thick silver barbells that glittered on his chest. He tasted precum when he made it to the tip — salty-slick and slightly sweet, a nearly perfect mirror of the taste of Vince's own precum, which he’d first licked off of his thumb so long ago, he could only vaguely estimate how old he might’ve been the first time he’d done it. Mid-teens, maybe, when his furtive experimentation with DeAndre had made him curious. He’d never so much as seen DeAndre’s dick in person, but he had felt it up over his jeans and grinded against it, just the suggestion of its heat and length enough to have him imagining what it might be like to taste it for himself. He might’ve, eventually, if given the time. If his mother hadn’t caught them. If DeAndre hadn’t been sent away and beaten for doing something even Vincent knew at the time shouldn’t be punished. A healthy thing. A natural thing. Months later, when his father left a pack of condoms under his pillow the evening Vince brought his first girlfriend over for dinner, the hypocrisy of it disgusted him. Fuck who you like as long as they don’t have a dick because… Jesus? Bullshit. He hated him for it. Then he ended up using the condoms anyway.

Vincent looked down at Tony’s cock almost lovingly as he caught his breath, something like a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as Tony’s cock twitched impatiently, glittering with saliva everywhere Vincent had kissed. Vincent had always had a taste for wet, slippery cocks shimmering with water, oil, spit, or cum — fresh out of a shower, mouth, or pussy and begging to be licked. There was something undeniably erotic about the way the wetness clung to it, tracing its length, turning it glossy and slick to the touch. Often, he found he didn’t mind when the rest of the body was wet too, every curve, dip, and muscle glittery-moist and laced in light. Sloppy wetness, skin-on-skin, slick and smooth and fluid.

He’d always loved eating out Stella in the shower. Gliding his hand up and down her body, he licked and sucked at her throbbing clit until she could do little more than clench around his pounding fingers and whimper his name. But he had no doubt that Tony would be even better. He could easily imagine the man’s hot, hard muscles slipping against his palms as glassy droplets clung to the hair on his skin. A new shape, a new texture. God, Vince wanted it, thirsted for it, starved for it — and as he worked his tongue in his mouth, building up spit so Tony’s cock would slide in easy, he had to tilt his hips back from the couch so the image alone wouldn’t make him spill over while pressed against it.

By the time he looked up at Tony through his lashes, he was mostly confident that he’d be able to swallow him whole without suffocating on his cock, as if that wouldn’t be a fucking spectacular way to die. It surprised Vince how erotic it was to hear Tony chuckle at his goofiness while Vince was on his knees. The sound stirred a dangerous fondness in Vince’s gut, and he distracted himself from it by turning that laughter into a throaty moan as he circled his tongue around the tip of Tony’s cock before sinking his mouth down around the throbbing length until his lips met Tony’s fist.

Everything from then on was so profoundly incredible that it all felt as if it had occurred in another universe, Vincent’s mind sinking deep into the glittery black oblivion of pleasure, fullness, heat, and euphoria that the only thing he registered as belonging to the real word was the brilliant sound of Tony’s deep, solid voice panting and cursing and moaning his name. The fingers in his hair were tight enough to make his scalp burn, and Tony’s opposite hand clenched his forearm like a vice in the middle of rubbing up and down his thigh, limiting Vince’s movement to a tight, trembling squeeze. Forced against the couch by the cage of Tony’s legs, Vincent more owned than he ever had, like his only purpose was Tony’s pleasure, his only resource Tony’s cock. It was a sort of euphoria of its own, that rawness, that ownership, that limitation of his own reality. Immersed in this state of being, his next breaths quite literally dictated by the hand that gripped his hair, Vincent felt almost entirely at peace. It was a foreign mind-state to Vincent, one which he’d believed entirely impossible. One where he thought nothing and felt nothing and wanted nothing at all. One where, for the first time in his life, he felt… normal.

But maybe there was one thing he did want. One thing he truthfully had come to believe he couldn’t live without. He wanted to stay right here, unmoving, until his brain simply ceased to function. Which would happen soon if he didn’t come up for air. But Vincent didn’t care about that either. He wanted to rest. He wanted to stay.

’Don’t stop, Vince,’ moaned Tony, his deep voice foggy through the veil of nothingness that was slowly descending upon Vincent’s mind. Vincent was on the precipice of either coming, passing out, or both when the hand in his hair tugged him up like a root, tearing him out of that thick haze of bliss as jarringly as if he’d drenched him with ice water. Vincent’s body pulled in massive, whooping gasp on pure instinct, his lungs flooding with cool air so quickly, it was almost painful, his throat throbbing and sore in the sudden absence of Tony’s cock. Vincent rubbed at his throat almost drunkenly, hand heavy, head still spinning as the oxygen returned to his brain with each heaving gasp. In a way that would’ve been comical to anyone but Vince, he looked indignant as he met Tony’s gaze, frustrated at the fact that he’d been torn out of that perfect peace. ’Don’t stop’ was what the guy had just said, right? And then he pulled him off his cock? What the fuck kind of sense did that make?

“I wasn't gonna ‘till you pulled me off, goofy,” Vince panted with a faint grin, still breathless. It was thanks only to the fondness in Tony’s gorgeous brown eyes that he’d managed to call the man goofy instead of jackass, dipshit, or something else entirely uncalled for. In his current light-headed state, it was nearly impossible to remember that Tony was a guy he’d barely spoken to and not a best friend, lover, confidant, or any other of the myriad things they seemed to have confused each other for over the course of the afternoon. And maybe it was only because of the oxygen deprivation that Vincent’s brain was allowing itself to acknowledge those things at all.

Vincent shuddered as Tony loosened his grip of his hair and ran his fingers through it, blunt nails scratching back and forth over Vincent’s scalp and spilling goosebumps down his shoulders and neck. Vincent breathed a sigh and his hands gravitated to Tony’s cock as if by muscle memory, wrapping around the hot, wet length and gliding up and down in slow strokes as he let his eyes flutter shut. Vincent pulled in a sharp breath when he said it again, those two words, that ’good boy,’ and it must’ve been the sudden, hot clench of his heart that made his eyelashes bead with tears. Before he knew it, he was begging for it, opening his eyes and looking Tony right in his perfect face. “God, call me that again, Tony," he said, and to his own horror, he heard his own voice shake. “Say it again, please, I need to… I need to hear someone say I'm…”

Searching Tony’s face, eyes darting up and down his expression, Vince found himself with his mouth wide open, unable to speak. No matter the want in his chest, the word was too strong, too heavy, too thick to cross his tongue, as if he couldn’t fit it past his teeth. His voice came out in bitten, breathy stutters where the words should’ve been. But in the end, it didn’t matter — because in that exact instant, the music playing on the counter stopped dead in the middle of a lyric: ‘perfect, perfect, you’re too good to be tru—’

And Vince’s phone vibrated, its hard rubber case shuddering against the kitchen countertop once, twice, until the ringtone began. Stella’s ringtone. Two Weeks. It hadn’t always been the ringtone he used for her, but it had been for the past year, at least. She’d probably cry if she ever heard it; ever found out what it meant. ‘Save up all the days... A routine malaise... Just like yesterday, I told you I would stay.’ It was a song about marriage; more specifically, what a marriage could become.

Vincent’s eyes blew wide and his heart thudded in his chest once, so hard and loud and heavy that it nearly made him scream. And then it stopped — for one long, cold, terrible moment, everything stopped. It was over. Him, Tony, this afternoon, his marriage, his life — done. Or at least it felt like it. And then he blinked. And he could move. And he could speak. And what he said was, ”No,” a hard breath that sounded like it was punched out of him. He climbed to his feet in an instant, stomach twisting, fingers fumbling his cock into his pants and ripping his zipper into place all while he breathed out, “Fuck, fuck, no, shit, no,” like a goddamned mantra. He rounded the couch and flew to the counter so fast he could hardly breathe, the breeze of the swift motion wicking the faint sheen of sweat on his chest. It was only once he collapsed against the counter that he realized he was shirtless, half-naked, still hard as granite, breaths coming out in hot, hard gasps of panic. The phone still rang — ’Would you always? Maybe sometimes? Make it easy? Take your time...’ — and he counted his breaths until his hands no longer trembled.

With one final, deep breath, he picked up the phone and answered it. Vincent's pulse thundered in his ears as he pressed the phone to his cheek, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. He tried to steady his breathing, forcing down the frantic beat of his heart, but it was no use. The room felt too hot, too loud, too sharp. Every second stretched and snapped, taut with tension as Tony’s presence loomed in the corner of his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut, mouth dry.

“Hello?” His voice came out strained, thin, like a thread ready to snap. He cleared his throat, exacerbating the ache left by Tony’s cock.

There was silence on the other end, heavy and suffocating, until it was broken by a shuddering breath that made Vincent’s stomach twist. Stella’s sobs, raw and unfiltered, spilled into the receiver. He straightened, every muscle in his body going rigid. “Stella?” His voice was solid now, alert. “Hey — Stella, are you okay? Is June okay?”

“Vincent?” Stella’s voice was a broken whisper, jagged with pain. “Where are you? It’s almost 5:00.” Her voice cracked at the end, dissolving into another soft sob.

Vincent’s eyes darted to the far corner of the room as if searching for answers, the guilt wrapping around his chest like a vice. He struggled to keep his voice steady. “I told you I was staying late at the station to help Angie, remember?” He forced a gentleness into his tone, softening it, as if the lie would sting less that way.

There was a pause, filled with the muffled sound of Stella trying to catch her breath. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right, I forgot, I just…” her voice trailed off on a trembling sigh. She sounded small, fragile, nothing like the woman he knew her to be. “Vincent, something happened.” Her voice broke on the last word, and it pierced through him like an icicle to the chest.

Vincent leaned against the counter, fingers tightening around the edge as he willed himself to stay composed. June. June June June June— “Stella, talk to me,” he said, and his voice was hard, edged with frustration and panic before he could force himself back into a tone that communicated a patience he didn’t feel. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweetie. Is someone hurt?" His heart pounded, each beat ricocheting through him with painful intensity.

“It’s…” Stella hiccupped, struggling to breathe between sobs. “It’s Mom and Mia. They were driving in the city, and there was this truck at the stoplight, and… Vincent, it didn’t stop. It—it hit them. I just got off the phone with my dad. They’re in the hospital, but it’s bad. Mom’s unresponsive and Mia’s severely injured and—” Her voice cracked, splintering into a sound that made the air in the kitchen feel razor-thin. “Evan’s gone, Vince. He didn’t make it. He was only three. My little nephew, he’s just—he’s just dead.”

The world seemed to tilt under Vince’s feet, the weight of her words crashing over him in waves. He gripped the counter to keep himself upright, eyes darting to the floor as he tried to process the flood of information. “Oh my god,” he breathed, the words catching in his throat. His mind raced, images of her mother’s kind smile and Mia’s laughter mixing with the gut-wrenching thought of Evan — the toddler who barely had a chance to live. He’d been in the waiting room when he was born. He’d held him, swaddled him, smiled in pictures. He was so precious. As precious as Junie had been all those years ago. “Stella, I’m… I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Stella’s sobs deepened, becoming more erratic. “I don’t know what to do, Vincent I don’t… I need you here. Please, I need you right now,” she pleaded, her voice raw and trembling. The desperation in her words clawed at him, a visceral reminder of the depth of her pain, and the chasm between them suddenly felt endless.

“I know, sweetie. I know,” Vincent said. It cut deeper this time, the guilt seeping into his bones, making him feel like the liar and traitor he was. He risked a glance at Tony, and the room shrank, the air pressing in on him. “Does June know yet?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter what little control he had left.

“No,” she sobbed, the sound gut-wrenching and full of grief. “I couldn’t… I didn’t want her to know before you came home. She… she held him when he was a baby, Vincent. Remember? I want you to be here when we tell her, I can’t— I can’t do this by myself, Vincent, please.” Her voice cracked, and she dissolved into broken weeping again.

Vincent’s chest felt like it was caving in. He rubbed a hand over his face, the coolness of his palm doing nothing to settle the storm inside him. “I’ll be home soon, sweetie, I promise. Just stay with her, okay? I’m coming.” he said, voice trembling with a sincerity that felt at odds with the heat still pulsing through his veins. He glanced at his smart watch, calculating how long it would take to leave Tony’s, stop for food, and get home. There was no way she’d be cooking tonight, nor for the next couple of days. It’d be terrible to expect that of her. “Are you and June hungry?”

Stella sniffled, and for a moment, there was only the faint sound of her trying to calm herself. “I can’t eat. If I eat, I’ll just throw it up. But June… I haven’t made anything for her yet.”

“Don’t even worry about that, sweetie,” he said, forcing calm into his tone as he glanced at his watch again, looking down at June and Stella’s smiling faces. The image blurred in his vision. “I’ll pick something up on my way home. Just breathe, Stella. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a fragile pause, then, “I love you so much, Vincent. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The words crushed him, the weight of them squeezing his chest until he could hardly breathe. She hadn’t said that in months — not like this, not with intoxication slurring the edges. It hurt more than he expected, the sudden reminder of the woman he’d promised to stand by forever, a promise he’d spend the afternoon hammering to bits. His voice wavered. “I love you too, Stelly.”

The line went silent, and he let the phone drop from his ear, staring at the blank screen as he struggled to catch his breath. The room was a mess of guilt and echoes, each second stretching into an eternity. He turned, eyes meeting Tony’s from across the living room, and the realization of what he’d just done — what he was doing — hit him like a fucking tidal wave.

“I have to go,” Vincent said, looking at Tony with wide, panicked eyes. “Now. I have to go right fucking now.”

Vincent turned away from Tony without waiting for a response, his entire body trembling with the urgency of the moment. He hurried around the couch, spotting his duffle bag half-slumped against the base of the television. The old carpet muffled his hurried steps as he dropped to his knees and yanked it open, hands diving inside to find his uniform.

The room felt thick with tension, the air almost buzzing against his skin. He could still taste Tony, feel the heat of the man’s hands on him, but that all faded into the background noise of his racing thoughts. Guilt clawed at him with relentless fingers as he stripped out of his pants, the rough fabric scraping against his skin in his haste. His heart thudded so hard, he thought it might splinter his ribcage.

He fumbled with the buttons of his uniform shirt, each one taking an eternity as his shaking fingers betrayed him. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, and he felt the chill of the room bite at his exposed skin before the heavy material of the shirt covered it again. The fabric was stiff and familiar, a cruel reminder of who he was and what he was supposed to represent. He swallowed hard, fighting the burn in his eyes as he reached for his boots.

“Shit, shit,” he muttered under his breath, the sound rough and broken. His throat felt tight, and it was a struggle to pull the laces taut, his fingers moving clumsily. His vision blurred for a moment, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear it. Stella’s voice echoed in his mind, the raw pain in her words tearing through him. 'I need you here. Please, I need you right now.'

Vincent yanked the laces into place, tying them off with shaking hands. He shoved the rest of his clothes into the duffle with no regard for wrinkles, the soft fabric bunching up like discarded lies. His heart ached with the weight of what he was about to walk back into—what he was about to face—and he felt the sharp sting of regret threaten to split him in two. He could see Tony in his peripheral vision, silent and watching, and it sent a twist of shame spiraling through his gut.

Zipping up the duffle, he stood, chest heaving as he fought for composure. The sound of the zipper was harsh, cutting through the silence like a finality he wasn’t ready for. His mind was a tangled mess of apologies, of sorrow and guilt that churned inside him like a storm.

He took a step toward the door, the soft, worn carpet pressing against his heels, the fibers rough under the arch of his foot. He stopped, one hand braced against the frame, the other clutching the duffle strap so tight, his knuckles whitened. He could feel the warmth of Tony’s gaze on his back, and the duality of it—comfort and guilt—nearly knocked him off his feet.

The memory of the hickey on his neck flashed through his mind, stark and incriminating. He’d promised himself that if Stella ever noticed, he’d let it be the thing that broke him. That ended everything. But suddenly, the thought of ending anything felt distant, absurd. He wanted to see Tony again. He wanted… more. The realization hit him with a shiver, cold and thrilling all at once. His chest fluttered with the danger of it, the foolishness. Turning around, he met Tony’s eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat. His hand brushed over the dark bruise on his neck, a bitter reminder of what he’d been willing to risk. His voice came out low, almost embarrassed.

“Tony… I need one more favor.” He hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of the bruise. “Could you… leave me another one here?” He gestured next to the mark, the request awkward, heavy with implications. He felt exposed, raw in a way that had nothing to do with skin or intimacy. “I need it to look like a seatbelt rash. If I can make it look like something else, maybe she’ll…” he gulped, pulling his teeth hard over his bottom lip. “Maybe she’ll believe it,” he added, the words barely audible. He didn’t dare look away, waiting for a response, every second stretching into something infinite.

Tony had been called a lot of things in his life. Some good, some bad (okay, a lot of bad, but let’s not unpack that now). He’d received a lot of compliments about his physique as well. But never, ever, not once, had he ever had his cock compared to an anaconda.

He knew he was on the big side. That’s not something you get through puberty and young adulthood without finding out. One trip through the high school locker room showers after gym class was all it took for that knowledge to get out - though back in those days, that knowledge spread quietly, with plenty of jokes that ended with ‘no homo’ comments. El Paso’s public high school system in the late 90s wasn’t exactly welcoming. It was classmates’ sisters that were more interested in those rumors anyway… usually. One would think it was every horny teenager’s dream to realize he was special in a good way like that, but it took him several years to be not so self-conscious. Teenagers had a stupid malfunctioning brain like that, and just assumed you were a natural Cassanova if you were hung. Truth was, Tony really didn’t have any game until he was in his mid to late twenties.

Looking down at Vince, watching the man take him in with wide, hungry eyes, enjoying the way his whole body shuddered as he slid his hand through the other man’s hair, he couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time Vince was touched like this. When was the last time he got what he wanted, what he desired? Had he really never done this before? He couldn’t imagine making it this far in life without at least trying it once. Not that there was anything wrong or bad about fooling around with a woman, but he couldn’t imagine craving something for decades and just never acting on it. Judging by the way Vince stared at him, he knew for certain he was satisfying a craving that ran deep.

“Fuck, you look good with your lips on my cock.” Tony murmured, eyes transfixed upon Vince as the other man worked him over with his tongue. The sensation of being licked and kissed that way was a pleasantly tortuous one; it felt gentle and amazing enough to send a shiver up his spine and make his cock harden even more, but damn did it ever make that heat coil low in his body and fill his mind with images of thrusting that hot length of his body into someplace warm, wet, and waiting. As he squirmed under Vince’s lips, that was all he could think of - being inside Vince. First his mouth, then if he was lucky, elsewhere.

Vince’s comment about ’check it out’ had started a laugh bubbling up from his stomach. What an utterly ridiculous thing to say, in the grand scheme of things. Was he a frat boy about to drink the entire bottle in one go? Was he a goofy-ass teenager about to do a ’sick kick flip’ on his skateboard at the park? Was he about to set some shit on fire? It was unexpected, it was ridiculous, and it caught him so off-guard that when Vince finally went down on him and took him into his mouth, that chuckle turned into a moan and all coherent thought went out the window.

If the wet circle Vince tongued around the head of his cock was amazing, then this had to have been sublime. The tight, firm confines of Vince’s throat squeezed around him - and holy shit was he actually deepthroating him? The first blowjob, and despite just saying he needed some guidance, Vince was already throwing himself fully into it. Tony didn’t resist at all when Vince pulled his hand off his own cock, forced himself the rest of the way down, and only stopped when he was nose-to-body.

“Oh holy fucking—” Tony’s words melted into a senseless moan as he squirmed and arched his back, all coherent thought stopping in place. He had never, ever, been deepthroated like this before.

It wasn’t just one moan either - every inch seemed to draw another from him, voice low and getting more and more breathy and gravelly the closer Vince’s lips go to the base. By the time Vince had swallowed the whole thing, Tony was panting and moaning and cursing. Every other word was Vince’s name as he squirmed in his seat, one hand on the back of Vince’s head and tangled up in his hair, the other reaching behind him to hold on to the couch cushion for dear life.

Tony couldn’t figure out what to do with his legs - alternating between pressing one calf against Vince’s ass and tangling the other up with the other man’s legs to keep him close, then spreading his knees further apart as he writhed, he finally settled on wrapping them around Vince to keep him close. Closer was what he needed - he couldn’t push himself in any deeper as he had literally run out of dick, for the first time in his life - and now he was trying to find any way possible to physically achieve even more closeness. Legs wrapped around Vince, one hand in the other man’s hair, and once he let go of the couch cushion he reached down and held on to Vince’s forearm.

Squirming and writhing, he rocked his hips up to Vince, not that he had very far left to move, and let another pleasured shudder run through his body. He was holding onto Vince’s forearm so tightly he left faint indents and marks with his fingers. The grip on Vince���s hair was firm, approaching possibly painful, and he held Vince’s head down for several seconds - until he remembered suddenly that Vince would need to breathe. And, it isn’t possible to breathe when your throat is filled like this.

“Oh fuck, fuck, don’t stop, Vince.” Tony panted, more breath than words, as he tugged Vince’s head up and off his cock, hoping to give the other man enough relief so that he could take a breath. The last thing he needed was a cop passed out in his apartment, but he wasn’t thinking about that at the moment. All he could think of was more, and Vince.

Easing up his grip on Vince’s hair so he could gently stroke fingers through Vince’s hair instead of pulling him around, Tony opened his eyes halfway - when had he even closed them? He couldn’t remember - and stared down at Vince with more of that predatory hunger. “Good boy.” Pulling his hand off Vince’s hair, he trailed his fingers down Vince’s face and lightly across his cheeks. “Goddamn you look good like that. Keep going. Please.” The way Tony said 'please' was a mere breath and higher octave away from begging, but at the same time somehow sounded like an order.

This was a hookup he never wanted to end.

[nugget-child]

when you “hate him” but there’s official art posted on Valentine’s Day of you reluctantly giving him a gift at a popular date spot in Japan

kinda gay if u ask me

[eyndr-stories]

Everyone needs to see him. I’ve sent him to all my friends. I sent him to my brother. I sent him to my aunt. I’ll show him to my therapist. Now he is here,

catboy mobster

[champ-wiggle]

'She is so old': One-eyed wolf in Yellowstone defies odds by having 10th litter of pups in 11 years

By Patrick Pester, published June 3, 2024

Wolf 907F recently gave birth to her 10th litter of pups, which researchers say is likely a Yellowstone National Park record.

Wolf 907F walking past a trail camera in Yellowstone National Park. (Image credit: Yellowstone Wolf and Cougar Project)

The alpha female of a Yellowstone gray-wolf pack has defied the odds by having a 10th litter of pups at the age of 11.

The one-eyed wolf elder, named Wolf 907F, gave birth to her latest litter last month, the Cowboy State Daily reported. Gray wolves (Canis lupus) have an average life span of three to four years, so it's rare for them to reach 11, let alone have pups at that age.

Wolf 907F has given birth to pups every year for a decade straight since she became sexually mature, which Kira Cassidy, a research associate at the Yellowstone Wolf Project, said is likely a record for the wolves of Yellowstone National Park.

At age 11, Yellowstone’s Wolf 907F has lived more than twice a wild wolf’s average life expectancy. In this photo from April, she was pregnant with a litter of pups that she’s since given birth to. (Courtesy Yellowstone Wildlife Project)

"Every day, I expect that she might die just because she is so elderly, but I've been thinking that for the last few years, and she keeps going," Cassidy told Live Science.

Cassidy has calculated that only about 1 in 250 wolves in Yellowstone make it to their 11th birthday, with just six recorded examples since wolves were reintroduced to the park in 1995. The oldest of all of these great elders lived to 12.5 years, according to the National Park Service.

Wolf 907F lies in the snow in Yellowstone in 2015. (Image credit: Kira Cassidy/NPS)

Wolf 907F is the oldest wolf to have lived her whole life in the park's Northern Range, where there is more prey but also more competition from other wolves. Wolves rarely die of old age in the wild, and in Yellowstone National Park, the biggest threat is other wolves.

"In a protected place like Yellowstone, their number-one cause of death is when two packs fight with each other," Cassidy said. "That accounts for about half of the mortality."

One of Yellowstone's oldest wolves, Wolf 907F is pictured here with her pack last year. She's the gray collared wolf on the lower left. (Courtesy Yellowstone Wildlife Project)

Wolf 907F is the alpha female of the Junction Butte pack, which has between 10 and 35 members at any given time. Cassidy noted that this is a large pack — the average wolf pack size is about 12 individuals — and that reduces the risk of being killed in territorial fights. Wolf 907F's experience also gives her pack an edge.

"Packs that have elderly wolves are much more successful in those pack-versus-pack conflicts because of the accumulated knowledge and the experience that they bring to that really stressful situation," Cassidy said.

Wolf 907F has likely boosted her pack's survival chances outside of battle, too. Cassidy noted that the Junction Butte pack rarely leaves Yellowstone's border and that Wolf 907F is "savvy" when it comes to things like crossing roads and avoiding humans.

Wolf 907F, Yellowstone's aging matriarch at 11 years old, only has one eye. She's the fourth wolf to pass by this trail cam. (Courtesy Yellowstone Wildlife Project)

What makes Wolf 907F even more impressive is that she does all of this with only one functioning eye. Researchers aren't sure what happened, but her left eye has been small and sunken since before she turned 4. "You would never know [when] watching her," Cassidy said.

Like other elders, Wolf 907F takes a back seat in hunts now that she's older, and she spends most of her day hanging around with the pack's pups. Cassidy and her colleagues have counted three pups in her current litter, which is smaller than the average litter size of four to five but not surprising. A 2012 study of Yellowstone wolves published in the Journal of Animal Ecology found that litter size declines with age.

"The fact that 907 is still having pups is amazing, and her litter being small is expected given that she is so old," Cassidy said.

A few of Wolf 907F's offspring now lead packs of their own, but most of her pups never reach adulthood due to the perilous nature of being a wolf. However, Wolf 907F and the others in the park don't seem to live like death is on their mind.

"They are happy to be with their family going from day to day," Cassidy said. "Even if they have injuries or are missing an eye or something really stressful is going on in their life, they move through that stress and go back to seemingly really enjoying their life."

At age 11, Yellowstone's Wolf 907F - the gray wolf in the center of this photo from 2020- has lived more than double the typical lifespan of wolves in the wild. (Courtesy Yellowstone Wildlife Project)

[crushmeeren]

Sex chocolate with Hawks, Dabi, Aizawa and maybe Toshinori???

⋆ ft. izuku ⋆

⋆ this is written as if the guys didn’t know they’d eaten the chocolate and how they’d react to the treat. sorry I didn’t put Toshinori in this, I’m not quite sure how to write his personality yet. (ó﹏ò｡)

𝛏 master list link 𝛏

// @emmab3mma hope you enjoy! ₊˚ʚ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Izuku’s lips would tug into a sheepish smile, no doubt thankful for the sweet treat pick me up. His eyes would brighten, a satisfied hum dancing in the air.

Izuku would be unbearably jittery out on patrol that evening, hopping from the sidewalk on one side the street to the other, green light crackling in his wake. He’d do it mindlessly, thoughts wandering to you and what you currently could be doing.

Suddenly, he’d be flailing mid air when he vividly imagines you on your knees, plush lips stretched so wide on his cock he knows it must hurt your mouth. Izuku would stumble when he hit the concrete, catching himself on the bench nearby.

Izuku’s expression would twist from calm to horrified, thoughts running a mile a minute when he steadies himself and realizes his cock is…hard. Throbbing. Straining against his hero suit. He’d make haste running to the nearest building with a public restroom.

Izuku would shut the door to the restroom and lock it before anyone could even notice he entered. He’d be frantic, shoving his pants down mid thigh as he leaned against the wall and hissed through his teeth when the cool air hit his freely bobbing cock.

He’d have a million concerns in the back of his head but not be able to focus on a single one. Izuku would have a one track mind, wrapping a hand around himself and jerking until he came in less than 20 seconds to the image of you on your knees.

Izuku would be so embarrassed afterwards, cheeks bright pink as he adjusts his clothes and washes his hands.

Being as smart as he is, he’d have a suspicion this is related to the chocolate you gave him and he intends to find out once he’s home. Once he returned, he’d tease you until you’re on the edge of tears and blurting out the truth, fucking you until your mind whites out and you scream his name.

Lucky you.

Keigo would give you a flirty grin, winking playfully as he snatched the chocolate from you and swallowed it within two bites. You’d give him an unimpressed look but he’d just laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Keigo isn’t surprised when he got a boner while soaring through the skies on the way to his agency. He’d been thinking about you anyways and his dick getting hard wasn’t uncommon when he thought of you. It’d be fair to say that happened often, if he’s honest.

Keigo would take note of the violent flush crawling down his neck and snaking under the fuzzy collar of his flight jacket. He’d suck his bottom lip in between his teeth and adjust his cock in his pants so it’s sticking straight up instead of outward.

He’d be able to somewhat focus on the business meeting he didn’t want to attend in the first place, only being reprimanded a few times more than normal for zoning out.

Keigo’s pulse would thunder. He’d wear a neutral expression, letting his chin rest in his propped up hand as he sent a feather to find and turn on the air because why the fuck is it so hot in here?

He’d text you something filthy as discreetly as he could under the table, biting his knuckles when you sent back a picture of yourself with your tits on display. Keigo would come to the conclusion that maybe he was a bit more pathetically horny than normal and he needed to ditch this meeting yesterday.

Keigo would go straight home, ignoring anyone who had tried to speak with him on his way out. He’d find you on the couch with nothing on but an oversized shirt and waving what’s left of the chocolate bar at him with a smirk when he entered through the balcony.

He wouldn’t even be upset when you told him what you’d done. He’d just crowd close, looming over you with a wolfish grin that shot a thrill down your spine.

Keigo would succumb to the aphrodisiac completely. He’d bend you over the backrest of the couch at hip level and wrench your arms taut behind you, fingers circling your wrists to secure you in place.

Keigo would have no mercy, sliding his cock in your tight pussy before you’re turned on enough to take him smoothly. He’d send a feather down to play with your clit until you strain to escape, not stopping despite your pleas because “this is what you wanted, isn’t it baby? yeah, so stop yapping and take it.”

In the end all you can do is nod, because if you truly wanted him to stop you’d only have to say the safe word.

Shouta would raise an eyebrow with a bored expression on his features. He’d roll his eyes and eat the chocolate after you pushed your lower lip out and fluttered your lashes at him.

Shouta’s a sucker for you.

He’d be grading papers that afternoon, knuckles rubbing at his sleepy eyes in the office of your shared home. He’d take a break, pressing his palms to his eyes and resting his elbows on the desk.

A scenario would pop into his head, one where you sat on the edge of the desk while he’d relax in his chair and lazily eat you out. He can imagine the way your clit would feel against his tongue, how warm and soft your pussy would be on his lips.

Shouta would lean back in the chair, a hand absently dropping to his lap to palm his cock and he’d be startled at just how much he’d filled out already. His dick hot and sticking to his inner thigh. Shocked at the unavoidable thick warmth swirling in his belly when it’d usually take a bit more than a brief daydream to get this worked up.

He’d be certain that you had something to do with this and irritation would lance through him. He’d sit in the kitchen once he’s finished, arms crossed and cock stubbornly refusing to flag until you returned home.

Shouta would ask you about it as if he were asking a child if they had stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. Easily, you admit to it. No hesitation, no shame, just a smug air about you.

Then, Shouta would make his fantasy a reality. He’d eat your pussy until you were right on the edge of cumming and then he’d stop. He’d speak condescendingly, saying “poor baby, your pussy just wants to cum doesn’t she?” as he sits you roughly down on his cock.

He’d spank you a few times, teasing you a bit more but he’d make you cum so intensely your toes would cramp — and then he’d keep going until his own brain got fuzzy.

Touya would say fuck no at first. He doesn’t like chocolate. Until you mention there’s something special about the sweet and he assumes it’s an edible. You don’t bother to correct him because, technically, it is an edible, just not the kind filled with weed.

Touya would be leaning his back against the railing on your balcony, angled so he can peer into the open doors of your living room. He’d have a cigarette dangling from his lips, scrubbing at his cheek with one hand because yeah, his cheeks are typically roasting but they’re never this hot.

He’d shrug it off and nonchalantly light up the cigarette with his pointer finger. He’d startle as the tiny flame bursts into a fireball that he really didn’t mean to create when you stride past the doorway in soft shorts that show the crease of where your thigh joins your ass.

You’d freeze mid step and turn to stare at him incredulously, lips parted slightly when the aftershock of heated air damn near singes your skin.

Touya would be flustered. Cheeks painted rosy pink with embarrassment at the lack of control over his quirk. He’d scowl harshly, pinching his brows together as he dropped and stomped on his cigarette to put it out. He’d stalk towards you and snarl “why the hell are you wearing those fucking shorts?” as if his sudden overbearing lust is your fault specifically.

You’d roll your eyes and begin walking in the direction you’d intended in the first place but Touya would snatch your wrist tight enough the bones grind together and drag you to your bedroom. He’d ignore your obviously fake bewildered expression and shove you onto the mattress. He can’t focus on the fact that you seem to be going along with this a bit too easily.

His cock would be jumping and pushing painfully against the zipper of his jeans before he so much as kissed you. He wouldn’t get either of you truly naked, he’d just slide your soft shorts to the side and unzip his jeans. He’d shove your shirt to your collarbone so he could watch the way your tits are about to bounce.

Touya would yank your ankles up and over his shoulders until the backs of your thighs press into his chest and then fold you in half like you’re a fucking blanket. He’d tilt his hips until his tip catches on your pussy and then he’s shoving his cock all the way inside to steal the breath from your lungs.

Touya wouldn’t have the self control to stop for a long time that evening and you’d almost regret giving him the chocolate. Almost.

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[currently-becoming-potatoes]

List of words for the computer:

LONG POST- more under the cut

STANFORD- Pulls up a file on Stanford Pines, written by an unknown scientist. It discusses his extra finger and praises his intelligence, as well as calling him the “next evolution in the human species”.

BILL CIPHER- Takes you to the Wikipedia page for the Eye of Providence. Also took me to a Sesame Street video about a Jazzy Triangle and a Square. Not sure what prompted the change.

STANLEY PINES: Takes you to a list of EBay listings for brass knuckles.

FIDDLEFORD: Takes you to the music video for Cotton Eye Joe by Rednex.

SHERMIE: Nothing. I sure do wish we got some lore about Grandpa Pines.

GRAVITY FALLS: The text on the computer reads “never heard of it” and the red light on the bottom turns green.

ALEX HIRSCH: Leads to Google Images for “flannel”. Huh.

WEIRDMAGEDDON: Pulls up an article from the Gravity Falls Gossiper about how nothing happened at all and there was no apocalypse.

DISNEY: Screen reads “rat.gif censored for your protection”

SOOS: Leads to a page of writing from Soos himself, referencing many things (including Tad Strange being gay and madly in love with Woodpecker Guy. Love wins!!!)

DIPPER: Leads to a creepy yellow parchment with a message from Bill Cipher himself trying to trick Dipper into blinding himself by staring at the sun for 13 hours straight! Silly! (Also if you keep clicking on it, the page gets darker and blurrier until it implies we've gone blind)

MABEL: Causes stickers to appear on every available surface. Clicking it enough times leads to message “lab now fully Mabelized”.

WENDY: Leads to a note from Wendy that mentions a way to ward off evil triangles written in the bottom corner of the book.

GIDEON: Makes a web recording of Gideon scatting play. It ends with “I love you forever Mabel”. Please shut the fuck up you little creep.

TAD STRANGE: Plays a video of bread with smooth jazz in the background.

TOBY DETERMINED: Leads to a Google search for a restraining order. Holyyyyy shittttttt

WHO ARE YOU: “I could ask you the same question”

SEASON 3: “Season Two”. I guess that’s that lol

This was about all I could find. Please reblog with anything else you can discover! Thank you, fellow Gravity Falls enjoyers!

And make sure to give some love to all the wonderful folks down in the comments! Many of these answers and tips come from what they've found. I can't list everyone, unfortunately- I didn't expect this post to get popular- but, to everyone who's helped out, THANK YOU.

FURTHER EDITS:

BLIND EYE: Pulls up an optometrist’s eye exam. Each line reads “WKHBOOVHH”. Too lazy to translate atm.

PIÑATA: Bill Cipher getting beaten to death /hj

MASON: A note from Dipper listing several anagrams of Gravity Falls characters’ names. You can check in the comments for the answers.

AXOLOTL: “You ask alotl questions”. Thanks for the pun, Alex, but I’m kind of losing my mind rn

MYSTERY SHACK: Leads to a Google search for Confusion Hill, the real-life Mystery Shack!

MYSTERY: “?”

MONSTER: Leads to several YouTube videos for “There’s a Monster at the End of this Book.”

VALLIS CINERIS: Leads to an analog-horror-esque video of Baby Bill and his parents, who have been blotted out by static, and a voice repeating “WHY DID YOU DO IT” over and over again until you stop the video.

PORTAL: “Portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build a new one.”

GIFFANY: You need to put it in multiple times. Several warnings about breaching firewall, followed by a message from GIFFANY saying “SOOS! I still love you!” or smth like that, and then GIFFANY herself briefly appearing onscreen. Trying again after that summons her more. Also lets you download some ZIP files.

DORITO: Summons an image of a spinning Dorito, followed by the most cursed image of Bill Cipher I have ever seen.

GOD: A short video of an axolotl in a tank with a Bill Cipher statue plays. This is Alex’s axolotl, shown in the Book of Bill countdown.

REALITY: “Is an illusion”

FILBRICK: “I’m not impressed”

CARYN: “I knew you were gonna write that”

GLASS SHARD BEACH: Leads to an image of the New Jersey Hell Hole.

ANY CUSS WORD: Pulls up a paper reading “NOT S&P APPROVED. WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP” with an image of soap below.

MATPAT: Leads to a video of MatPat next to a conspiracy board, holding the Book of Bill. He tells us we’re on our own.

BABBA: Plays an audio recording of Dipper singing BABBA. Not Disco Girl, a different song.

CRAZ: Leads to the Jem and the Holograms theme.

XYLER: See above.

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA: Shows us two new journal pages from Ford and Mabel, studying the Cipher statue. They’re definitely worth the read, I teared up looking at them.

ANSWER: “Question”

QUESTION: “Answer”

SEASON ONE: “Season -1: Antigravity Falls”

SEASON TWO: “Season 1” …maybe scratch what I said about Season 3. Or don’t. Things are starting to damage my brain.

CURSED (got from @slimslamflimflam decoding the candle! Thanks!): Shows two pages talking about the dangers of drawing triangles, with the bottom of the second page showing several drawings of Bill and the words “HE IS COMING, RUN”

THE UNIVERSE: “Hologram”

RIZZ: “Life privileges revoked. Now releasing poison gas.” This response is repeated if you type in SKIBIDI or FORTNITE.

BABY: Shows an ultrasound of a fetus Bill Cipher, captioned “Look at what’s growing inside you! See you in nine months, papa!”

JOURNAL 3: “The Journal for Me”

PACIFICA: Leads to a note from Pacifica calling Bill Cipher “ick” and telling us to follow her on social media under “Platinum Paz”

PLATINUM PAZ: Pulls up an image of Northwest Manor with the llama symbol overlaid and a “NW” logo beneath. There's also a short story beneath!

LOVE: Leads to an audiobook of “The Love Triangle”. Need to read later.

BLENDIN: “The time agent lost and presumed incompetent”. Uh…?

SCARY: Leads to another audiobook of a cheesy Goosebumps-esque horror novel written by Bill himself, apparently.

DIVORCE: Shows you the logo of the bar Bill went to after his fight with Ford… Billford bitter exes confirmed

ROBBIE: Leads to the cringiest messages ever. He’s such a failure I love him

CONSPIRACY: Leads to a video of a man losing his mind over the countdown counting up. I feel so seen. (I have been informed that his name is Charlie Day, he's an actor from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and that one meme, he had a quote on the back of the Book of Bill, thanks to everyone who explained that to me, I'm sorry, I'm uncultured)

RAT: “Thurburt’s number?”

BLANCHIN: Leads to a YouTube video on how to blanch vegetables.

TJ ECKLEBURG: “Never mention that name again.”

NOTHING: “Something”

SOMETHING: “Nothing”

BURNSIDE: “Burned inside.” Well… at least we know what happened…

WADDLES: Leads to the pig placement network!

THERAPRISM: Pulls up a sign from the theraprism regarding an emergency situation. The code reads "THE OLD ONE".

SHAPE: Pulls up an article on Plato, triangles, and Ancient Greece. This article is presumably written by Bill.

LLIB and BILL: THIS leads to the Sesame Street video every time.

WEIRD: Shows a video of a frightened Weird Al panicking about being trapped in a computer. Sorry, man...

CLONE: Pulls up an image of Paper Jam Dipper, a warning about not getting him too close to liquids, and an option to print.

TRIANGLE: ")" or "Tri harder."

THEYLLSEE: "Is seeing believing?"

DEER TEETH: "For you, kid!"

LIFE: "Life: 72% complete. Now loading: death."

DEATH: "Life's goth cousin."

PINES: "A good family tree."

OWL TROWEL: A slab of hieroglyphs, translating to an ancient ad for an owl trowel.

SCALENE: "Life form not found." EUCLID has the same outcome.

WELL WELL WELL BEING: Some assorted notes from Bill's Theraprism file. These include his greatest love and fear, his art therapy notes, and notes on his phobias. Three clicks is required to read them all.

BOO BERRY: Offers a poem on the meaning of life! Wow! I feel so enlightened!

LOVE YA BRO: Shows us a doodle from Stan of one of his and Ford's Sea Grunks adventures, and another code on the back. It translates to "Kings of New Jersey." I've been told it lets you download the code as a font.

SORRY: Reveals the repaired Backupsmore photo, with a note from Fiddleford about his and Ford's growing friendship. Fiddauthor fans, we are eating well tonight!

HORROR: Pulls up an image and report on The Always Garden, which is essentially a cheap Italian restaurant hidden in the backrooms.

HOLOGRAM: "Universe."

NAITSUAF: Pulls up a page that looks like it would be from the Book of Bill, in which Bill tries to convince us to sell us his soul. Clicking "ARE YOU READY?" pulls up a contract where we can sell our soul to Bill (with an alarming amount of coded fine print. Will need to translate later). You can print this document out, back out, or sign it right there on the web. Hitting "SIGN" causes the words "PLEASURE DOING BUSINESS WITH YOU!" to appear, and the document to close. In other words, I no longer have a soul.

IMSTILLONYOURMIND: Plays a recording of the ocean, with Stan faintly talking in the background. Poor Ford ain't quite over the divorce yet...

HOTXOLOTL: Pulls up a "MOST WANTED" doc on the henchmaniacs.

SEVENEYES: Pulls up a faded polaroid of The Oracle with text on the back that reads "LEAVE HIM. Escape to dimension *blurred out*. It's against the rules but it's the only reality where you'll be safe from him." The code at the bottom (once again decoded by the powerhouse that is @slimslamflimflam) reads "Set a course for Dimension: R34LITY." Is another Cipher Hunt in the makes? Only time will tell, hehehe.

JUST FIT IN: Plays an old commercial with a few moments of speech in the glitches at the end.

EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES: Shows a transcript from a therapy session at the Theraprism. Bill discusses his relationship with Ford and cuts off the session when someone brings up his parents.

NOT A PHASE: Shows a Google search for "black hair dye stained an entire bathroom."

PAPER IS BOOK SKIN: Instantly downloads a page of fleshy pink paper with the word "ENJOY" written on it!

SHAVE YOUR GRANDMA: Pulls up a few more pages about the human life cycle.

LIES: Pulls up an image of "The Game of Lies" board game, with a long stretch of text from (I assume) Bill, ending with "LIE UNTIL YOU ARE NOT LYING ANYMORE." Someone has some issues...

SAY BAAAA: Pulls up a neat little rhyme about being Bill Cipher's obedient flock of sheep. The code at the end translates to "Black Sheep."

ONE EYED KING: Plays a video of a hypnotist's spiral, with Bill proclaiming "YOU WANT TO PLEDGE YOUR SOUL TO BILL CIPHER" in the background. There is also morse code that translates to "NAITSUAF", leading to a previous discovery- the soul contract.

TANTRUM: Pulls up a transcript of a spat between Bill and Time Baby.

TITANS BLOOD: "HOOT HOOT! Password please!"

CURSE WITTEBANE: Pulls up an image of a Bill Cipher ouija board.

FORDTRAMARINE: Pulls up several rejected files from Ford trying to convince us Fordtramarine exists.

SUCK IT MERLIN: Pulls up a tapestry of Bill riding a unicorn. The code at the top reads "DAY MARE VS NIGHTMARE."

HEY NERD: Plays a commercial advertising things such as a Bill Cipher calendar, the Scrubba-Bill, a severed hand, and the entire Cygnus-XIII galaxy. Half of the image can be found in the Book of Bill.

DESTRUCTION IS THE FORM OF CREATION: Pulls up a frantic page of notes from post-portal-shit Fiddleford. A sticky note at the bottom has a code that reads "Unreality."

RUBBERHOSE: Plays "The World is Small Ever After for All."

IRREGULAR: Shows us Bill's mugshot in color. The code below reads "No prison or attention span can hold him."

UNREALITY: Offers a guide by Bill on how to become immortal.

GUN: "Oh yes oh yes oh yes they both."

ABUELITA: Leads to a video on vacuuming the walls.

YES: "What's McGucket's favorite soda?"

NO: "Your loss..."

REPEATEDLY CLICKING STAN: This stuff deserves a section of its own, away from the OG Stan stuff. It takes you through several Ebay listings on various Stan-ish items until you get to a page written by Bill about Stan's secret shames. "Ex-wives" further confirms our theory on Stan and Eda's relationship, as well as revealing many other bits of lore. "Fears" is somewhat goofy to be honest. "Secret Shames" reveals that Stan is a fanfiction writer and that his mother is the only member of his family who truly loves him outside of Ford and the kids. "Unreported Crimes" is somewhat goofy as well. "Failed Products" basically confirms that Stan is that world's Alex. "Lowest Moments" is genuinely depressing, and "Darkest Thought". Well. I'm not spoiling it lol. And the bit on "How He Beat Me" causes Bill to get more and more frantic/angry the more you click it! Comedy GOLD!

DIPPY FRESH: Leads to a Reddit post of the Burger King Kids Club.

MEOW: Leads to a TikTok of a man playing the Gravity Falls theme on that cap keyboard.

HELP ME: Pulls up another video of Alex's axolotl and the tiny statue. Rip Bill ig :/

R34LITY: Pulls up several photos of the henchmaniacs in live-action, captioned "They found a new home."

JOURNAL 1: "The journal of fun."

JOURNAL 2: "The journal for you."

FBI: "Your webcam is on. We are watching."

BURNED INSIDE: Shows an image of a charred Oregon Parks badge and nametag on the ground.

HECTORING: Plays a silly little country song!

OROBOROUS: Pulls up two journal pages about Fiddleford buying Ford an axolotl to keep him company, and Bill subsequently telling Ford to get rid of him. There's also some code on the first page that reads "CHONKY BOY." Ford, you wonderful dork.

[rafesangelita]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ gooning to your instagram page was a regular occurrence for stepbro!rafe, but getting caught? that’s something that didn’t happen everyday..

warnings: stepcest, reader is bit of a bimbo, male masturbation, rafe is super pervy and kinda icky in this lol, name calling, handjob, messy kissing, oral (f. receiving), praise, mutual pining (?), dirty talk, pussy slapping, overstimulation, unprotected sex, rafe is a loser so premature ejaculation, marking, cock warming, multiple orgasms, creampie

wc: 2.0k

“such a fucking slut, ‘posting shit like this.” rafe cursed under his breath, his phone in one hand and his cock in the other. jerking off to your slutty instagram account had become a part of his daily routine. he hated that you were so active on it, but then again, if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have so many pictures and videos to keep him sane while he fantasized about fucking his bratty little stepsister. pathetically enough, rafe knew he had to keep his grimy hands off of you, and fuck, did it piss him off. to have something so close, yet so far out of his reach.

your story highlights alone was enough to hold him off for the next year, but your actual posts? he swore anyone who came across your page was in gooning heaven. he’d never admit it, but he once spent two entire hours jerking off to a video he had secretly took of you two having a ‘whoever could eat their cone the fastest’ contest, his cock raw and aching to be left alone by the time he decided to give it a rest. he was mesmerized, watching you lick and lap at the icecream, the sweet succulence dripping down your chin, and eventually your tits when you couldn’t keep it from melting.

his eyes screwed shut at the memory, the video currently playing on his phone not being any different. instead of icecream dribbling down your chin, it was whatever alcohol your best friend had just poured in your mouth, the excess liquor running down your neck and chest. you had squealed when you swallowed the burning substance, your tits bouncing as you jumped excitedly with your friends. rafe groaned at the sight. you couldn’t be that oblivious, right??? at some point you had to know what you were doing when you posted this for everyone to see?

your micro bikini top did nothing to support the weight of your tits, a nipple peeking out before you innocently tucked it back underneath the poor excuse of pink material. he clicked out of your story and immediately blew up the image of your recent post. you were on all fours, face down and ass up as your skin sparkled underneath the neon lights of the party you had went to earlier tonight. you looked like you were straight out of a playboy magazine. rafe groaned, his chest heaving as he teetered the edge of cumming all over himself.

he thought about manhandling you out of that bikini and fucking you stupid for wearing it out in the first place. he’s had to watch you whore yourself out for nearly a year already, his life becoming a living hell since the day you first moved in and introduced yourself with that stupid faux innocent look in your eyes. the mini skirts you never failed to bend down in front of him in, the tube tops that basically had your tits spilling out of them, fuck, there was so many things about you that made him horny out of his mind. “oh, shit!” rafe dropped his phone, his door opening just as his orgasm washed over him.

“what the f-fuck?!” he was trembling underneath the covers, his eyes widening as you quietly shut his door behind you. “what are you doing?” he whispered, fumbling around as his high still had his hips stuttering. you giggled, watching as his face morphed into one of full blown pleasure before he turned away from you. “i just wanted to check on you since i heard noises, that’s all..” you sat down on the edge of his bed, biting your lip as his back muscles rippled beneath his skin, your eyes moving to the phone next to him. “oh, well you couldn’t have picked a better time?” rafe scoffed.

you flipped the device over, gasping softly when you saw your instagram illuminating the screen. “hey, that’s me!” you laughed, taking his phone in your hand and holding it up to him before he lunged for the thing, taking you down with him. “rafe!” you yelped his hand coming up to clasp over your mouth. “shut the fuck up! you’re gonna get us in trouble, dummy!” he cursed, his face just centimeters away from your own. you swallowed thickly, nodding as he slowly moved his hand down. “why am i on your phone?” you asked, noticing the way his pupils blew wide at your question.

“what?” he faltered, watching as a smile formed on your lips. “oh my god—” the realization hit you when you looked down, his bulge prominent in his boxers. “were you touching yourself?” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together as he backed away, looking at you as if you had just insinuated the most offensive thing he’s ever heard. “a-are you serious? of course not—” you trailed your hand down, cupping him through the thin material, “it’s okay if you were.. i do it too.” rafe froze, inspecting your face for any kind of hint that you were joking. you weren’t.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” he said through gritted teeth. you peered up at him innocently, batting your eyelashes at him as he made no attempt to move away from you. “i touch myself and think about you, ray. all the time.” you whispered against his lips, placing a soft kiss there before letting your head fall back against his pillows. “i know it’s wrong, but i can’t help it..” this was rafe’s wet dream coming true. “whenever you walk around shirtless i just imagine riding your abs. you’re so strong, rafe, i think about you choking me with these arms.” you ran your nails up the skin of his forearm.

holy fuck.

rafe didn’t believe he could ever be this turned on in his life. “yeah?” he let himself relax, your fingers slipping underneath the waistband of his boxers as you gripped him at the base. you felt the sticky residue from his previous orgasm in your palm, a hum leaving your lips at the revelation. “did i make you cum already?” the man above you groaned. how you sounded so sweet asking the most dirtiest question was beyond him. “fuck— yes, you did,” he nodded, his mouth parting once you started stroking him, “may i pleaseee make you cum again?” rafe nodded frantically, his hips thrusting into your palm.

taking your lips in a searing kiss, rafe didn’t hold back from slipping his tongue in your mouth, the sensation making you moan as you two practically drooled over one another. he wasn’t gentle in the slightest, his teeth nipping your bottom lip when you ran your thumb over his throbbing tip. “oh, god,” he hissed, pulling away momentarily to inspect your outfit.. or lack thereof. you laid underneath him in nothing but a sheer night top, your g-string sitting perfectly between your puffy folds. “you look so fucking hot.” rafe breathed out, cupping your tits before rolling your nipples between his fingers.

you gasped, spreading your thighs so he could lay between them. “i need to taste you, please let me,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your chin, both of your lips glossy with spit. you moaned, whimpering a ‘yes, please!’ as he snaked down your body. when he got to eye level with your soaking cunt, he teased you by slowly moving your sorry excuse of ‘panties’ aside before spreading you open. you shuddered, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited for his next move. pinning your thighs to the tops of his shoulders, rafe kissed your sensitive bud before diving in.

immediately, your back arched off of his mattress when his tongue attacked your poor clit, the back of your hand muffling your scream as your thighs clamped around his head. you were squirming, nails digging into his skin for dear life as he ate you like a man starved. “if only you knew,” rafe spoke, “i’ve been losing sleep over this pussy, ‘been wanting to do this since day fucking one.” you cried out at his words. you’ve wanted him for yourself the second he helped you with your moving boxes, that smug smirk on his face drawing you in since the very beginning.

your hips unintentionally chased his mouth, his hands pinning you down in place. “feels so good!” you whined, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could watch him. the tip of his nose was glistening with your slick, his tongue poking your entrance as lapped away at your juices. he was so good at this, you felt jealousy pooling in your tummy for any other girls who might’ve seen this sight, and felt his skilled tongue. “you taste so fucking good, this is unreal.” he marveled, sucking your clit before rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips. you gasped sharply, a scream sitting on the tip of your tongue.

rafe continued like this until you attempted to move away from him again. grabbing a pillow from your side, you smothered your face with it as he pushed you over the edge, a high like never before washing over you in waves of pure ecstasy. rafe watched you shake and thrash underneath him, his pussy drunk gaze raking down your trembling form. you moaned, sobbed, and cried until all you could do was whimper in sensitivity. “no more,” you sighed, your body jolting as rafe flicked his tongue continuously over your clit. black dots spotted your vision, your heart beating in your ears.

“..can’t take it, rafe!” you sobbed, tears welling in your eyes as he dismissed your cries. “yes, you can, you’re gonna have to..” just as you were going to ask him what he meant by that, he kept your legs on his shoulders as he stood up, slamming into you without warning. you couldn’t conceal the sound this time, your shriek bouncing off of the walls of rafe’s room. turning his head to see if the door was locked, he cursed under his breath when he saw it wasn’t. “you just want us to get caught, huh?” you shook your head, your nails digging into the flesh of his stomach.

rafe covered your mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you felt him pinch your clit. “just give me one more, baby, that’s all. ‘wanna feel this pussy squeezing around me when i fill you up with my cum.” you had tears running down your cheeks now. embarrassingly enough, rafe felt his climax approaching fast, his cock still aching from cumming not even twenty minutes ago. overstimulated and hysterical, you were spasming around rafe’s length in no time, every ridge of his cock bringing you to your final orgasm of the night, rafe following suit.

he leaned down, grunting praises in your ear while he painted you white inside, your thighs shaking uncontrollably against his chest. not daring to remove his hand away from your face yet, he sucked bruises into the skin of your neck, marking you as his own. you laid limp like on his bed, taking the last few of his thrusts before he stilled completely. you were a fucked out mess to say the least. gently placing your legs down, rafe stayed nestled inside of you as he pulled you against him. unintentionally, you had started tracing shapes into his skin, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead as you two kissed.

“this just made a lot of shit complicated.” he stroked your chin, your glassy eyes flickering over his face. “not really,” you started, “we’ll just be sneaky.” rafe blinked slowly, a groan rumbling from his chest as you clenched around him. “look down, i want you to see something.” you did as he said, a small whine leaving your lips as he pulled out, his cum dribbling out of with ease. “i’m the only one who can have this pussy, you understand?” you nodded, pecking his cheek before wrapping your arms around his neck. “come on, let’s get you back to your room before world war three breaks out in this house.”

[sunniepoo]

thinking about mean stepbro!rafe catching his cute little stepsis humping away at her pillow late into the night when everyone’s asleep ⋆ටᆼට⋆

that night was ingrained in the back of rafe’s head as if some twisted fairy carved the image of you rutting helplessly into your pillow within the crevices of his brain

it was all by complete chance. the night’s breeze gushed through the older cameron’s window awakening him to the seasonable hot hours of darkness- he couldn’t even remember what caused him to leave bed; water? needing to use the bathroom?

all that clouded his twisted mind, was walking past your room; his sweet, pure minded step sisters room. the soft little pants and uh uh’s that left your mouth filled the silent air. he almost couldn’t believe it, it felt like some perverse wet dream that centred around your poor, naive self

his body moved before his mind, his hand gently creeping up against the door, softly pulling it open- cautious to making no noise to alert his presence. it was art; the sight of seeing you move vigorously against a spare pillow, your hips rocking back and forth as your back arched back, your hands travelling up to pull and squeeze at your clothed tits, your mouth agape as the sinful sounds of pleasure leave your mouth

but the true beauty of it all was when his eyes fell down to your bare pussy, all red and puffy from the constant stimulation. you were so so so wet, you poor thing must have been so achey, so desperate

he would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted, there was nothing he wanted more than to barge in and pound that pretty pussy till you couldn’t even remember your own name - but he settled, hiding in the darkness, watching you work at your pillow late into the night. he found his hand travelling down beneath the band of his sweatpants, palming away at his hardon, small pants of pleasure escaping his mouth

you paid no notice to your surroundings completely oblivious to the shadow of the large figure behind your door until you stopped

fuck! had you seen him? has he been caught?

depsite the danger of being caught, rafe’s head peered further inside and god he nearly came at the sight.it was heavenly,the way you took of your corset like top, tits spilling out in an almost pornographic like manner. one of your small hand gliding up your stomach, eventually to come pull and twist at your cute little nipples while the other goes down to rub at your already sensitive pussy

the loud moan that left your mouth went straight to his throbbing cock, dying to be let free and make itself home in your tight cunt. he rushed to pull down his pants and boxers, freeing his large length as his hands fist around it, moving up and down at the same pace you rocked against the pillow

his mind couldn’t help but wander what if it was him underneath you instead of the pillow, the zip of his jeans catching against your sore clit just as the edges of the pillow did when you rocked forward and when you rocked back it was the friction against his bulge rather than the fluff of the pillow

he could hear that you were getting closer, your whines becoming higher as you rocked faster and faster, your hand rubbing roughly against your mound prompting him to move his fist faster up and down the length of his cock, leaking with pre cum

a soft series of curses left your mouth as you went into total bliss, hands gripping the side of your bedside table,mouth agape while a high pitched wine left your mouth and as if it was a cue for the tall blonde, he spilled out across the palm of his hand

he wondered if you ever heard the joined pants of the aftermath of both of your highs. he watched you collapse down into the warmth of your bed, the lengths of your hair stuck against your sweaty body as you breathe out, softly panting

god he wishes he could have stayed and watched your pretty pussy throb and clench around nothing but he knew he had pushed his luck already. the images of you and your little cunt plagued his mind as he fell asleep

⇉

the morning after was a blur for you; the early morning rays of sun kissing your skin, waking you up to the quiet twitter of the birds. it was early - way too early for anyone to be up, maybe ward but that seemed unlikely since he had no buisness to attend to roday

so when you went downstairs in nothing but a pair of panties and a bra covered by a thin dressing gown, the last person you expected to see was rafe cameron, the older boy resting his lower back against the counter, mindlessly scrolling on his phone

there was something magnetic about him - the dark blue in his eyes carrying a deep mystery. despite his typical mean,brooding state - barely sparing anyone around him more than a glance, you were always so drawn to him - his roughness; it only made your mind wonder to places they definitely shouldn’t be going, especially not about your brother

his hands; so rough and calloused, always adorned with the familiar gold cameron ring gifted by his father. you’d thought about them more often than you’d like to admit, what’d be like to hold them - intertwining them within yours. you wondered how’d they’d feel inside you, fitting in you so snug - reaching places inside you that you could only imagine of. the thought of them wrapped tightly around your neck, his fingers inside your mouth, making their way down your thro-

“your up early, must’ve slept good” you look up at him, realising you’d been staring intently at the lengths of his fingers, his voice was husky signalling he must’ve just gotten up aswell

you didn’t miss the subtle smirk as he uttered out the end of his sentence. weird you thought but didn’t pay it much thought, rafe is rafe. “yeah i guess-” you sigh out, hands softly grazing against the edge of the counter as you moved slightly closer “i mean i went to bed pretty late but it’s fine”

“yeah?” it was hard to miss his teasing tone, you couldn’t help but look down at the ground - feeling small in his presence “and why did you go to bed so late” the sudden shift in position nearly startles you, with rafe’s tall figure looming over you, standing impossibly close. you could feel his minty breath coming slowly closer and closer, making your pussy clench around air

you couldn’t help but take in his appearance, wearing nothing but a tight pair of boxers which did nothing to hide his quite obvious boner poking at the front of your thigh, hair tussled above the icy blue in his eyes

“just on-” the quiver in your voice only seemed to push him closer “on my ph- phone” you ramble out, hoping this conversation would be over soon enough

and just as he goes to speak, the voice of ward and rose waking up could be heard from downstairs, thank god- but it doesn’t stop him from shifting closer, leaning down to your ear “ well get to bed earlier-” he drawls out, voice unusually soft and gentle “f’me kay” he begins to leave but not before placing a sticky kiss on the bottom of your cheek, hands resting dangerously low on your back but quickly glide off at the arrival of the rest of the family, as he rushes his way upstairs

you stood there hot and bothered and all that rested in your mind was the excitement of straddling your pillow tonight hoping it was him;your mean older step brother

[angel-sweets666]

Wrong photo!

AGED UP AGED UP BRO NO PEDOS

Denki kaminari x fem!reader

You accidentally send Denki a photo of your tits instead of homework, you didn’t expect him to send his dick back

mdi

a/n okay so this is inspired by a post I saw, I forgot the name of the blog but if someone knows can you put the name in the comments? Inspired by this text message thing where you accidentally send mha boys nudes

warning: swearing ,nudes, oral m and f, boobie sucking, fingering 🙏🙏

ALL CREDS GOING TO THE INSPIRED CREATOR

You groan and slam your head onto the table in frustration. This homework was impossible; no matter how many times you went over it, the answers just wouldn’t come. The jumble of equations and theories seemed to mock you from the pages of your textbook.

Grumbling, you pulled out your phone, feeling a mix of desperation and determination. You opened your chats and scrolled to Bakugo’s name. He was one of the smartest kids in class, and despite his rough exterior, you knew he could help.

*name*: bakugo can you help me with this homework?

explosion tits: no figure it out yourself dumbass

*name*: this is why you get no bitches

explosion tits: kys.

You scoffed in annoyance. What’s up his ass recently? you wondered, fidgeting with your phone. The dorms were unusually quiet, with most of the students away at various hero training sessions. Only you and three other kids were left behind, making the place feel almost deserted.

Scrolling through your contacts, you realized your options for homework help were limited. You could message Mineta, but the thought of dealing with his inappropriate responses made your skin crawl. He'd likely send you an unsolicited picture of his 1cm shriveled-up cock instead of any actual help with homework.

That left Denki. While he wasn’t the brightest, he was at least not as creepy as Mineta. You sighed and opened a chat with Denki, typing out a message.

*name* hey does this look right to you? [image]

free charger 🙏 : WOAH HELLO TO YOU TOO

*name* Tf you on about?

Free charger 🙏: [image]

your face turned bright pink as you opened the picture, that was Denkis dick. You always expected him to have a small dick but clearly not. you looked back down at your phone to type

*name* DENKI WHAT THE FUCK

free charger🙏: WHATT YOU SENT ME TITTIES I SENT YOU MY DICK I THOUGHT WE WERE TRADING NUDES

you stare at your screen in complete horror, what does he mean you sent titties? You checked the photo you sent and there it was, the nudes you had saved for dudes you were talking to…. But you had accidentally sent them to the 2nd dude you’d never want to send nudes to, first being mineta.

The sound of fast stomps echoed down the hall, and you assumed it was Bakugo chasing Izuku or Kirishima. Then, you remembered that both Izuku and Kirishima were out doing hero training. So who was stomping down the hallway if not bakugo?

The door bursted open, it was a very panicked kaminari “IM SORRY LETS FORGET ABOUY THIS” he said as he snatched your phone “HEY!” You yelped, trying to grab your phone back “IM DELETING THE PHOTOS HOLD ON!” He screamed, bakugos yelling could be heard in the distance “SHUT IT.” His gruff voice exclaimed. You watched kaminari try to delete the photos, a panicked look on his face; while you watched him do this you looked him up and down, noticing the obvious bulge in his pants

he didn’t have time to jerk off between you sending the photos and him bursting into your room? Your face turning pinker at the idea of his dick, he wasn’t exactly small and he had a very pretty dick… the familiar warmth went straight for your lower belly…

kaminari was muttering quick apologies, trying as quickly as he could to delete the photos “imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry” “Denki!” “I’m trying to not be such a creep and i basically just ruined it all” “ Denki!” “DONE! What?” He looked up at you “it’s fine, we all make mistakes” you tried to calm him down but to be honest it was more yourself from your own flustered moment “WHAT FRIENDS SEND EACH OTHER NUDES?” He acted bewildered, throwing his hands “uh… friends with benefits?” You shrugged as you thought about it.

Denkis jaw dropped as he once again yelled “ARE WE FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS? IVE NEVER EVEN SEEN YOUR BOO- oh wait yes I have” he calmed down at the thought, his eyebrows furrowing before his face proceeding to get a lot pinker. The hardness between his legs became a lot worse. “NOT THE POINT!” He said as he gently threw your phone into your lap, but you seemed preoccupied; Your eyes going between his eyes and his dick.

Denki stood face to face with you, trying to figure out where your line of sight was. Denki soon realised why your face was so pink and it wasn’t because you had just seen his dick on camera or because you accidentally shown him your titties “are you.. are you looking at my dick?!” he seemed so surprised, not a bad surprised with how Pervy he was but just… surprised. “OH SHIT SORRY! H-HOW ABOUT YOU JUST L-LEAVE AND WE NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN YEAH?” You tried to push Denki out of your dorm, letting out a nervous laugh.

Denki saw an opportunity and he was going to take it? He suddenly resisted against your push and grabbed your hands to take them off his back “hey Uhm…” he starts “well you do have very pretty titties” he smirks and leans down to you, your whole face turning a much pinker shade “w-wha?” You stammered, trying to reach up and push Denki out “what? You do!” He chuckled and took a step forward “Denki what are you doing?” You crossed your arms against your chest, unknowingly giving him a better view of your tits. Denki grins and looks down at them “hey! Now you’re just showing them off.” He sneakily shut the door behind him.

“I-i wasn’t showing them off!” The feeling of arousal became worse and worse, you began to realise he was probably trying to see if you’ll let him see or even touch your boobs “what are you doing..?” You asked as you stepped back, Denki stepping forward “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEMME SEE ‘EM.” The blonde begged, clasping his hands together as he could feel his pants get even tighter. “I won’t hurt you I promise! I won’t even tell anyone!” He kept begging, even going as far as getting on his knees.

You thought about it for a moment, your face going pink. “I mean.. as long as this stays between us…” you mumbled, looking away to hide your obvious pink face. Denkis eyes lit up but then he tried to look more serious about it, not wanting to assault you obviously. You slowly sat down “AND NO HARD GRABBING! I’m not in the mood for sore boobs” you stuck your finger out at him, laying down some ground rules so you two were on the same page “deal! Wait I can grab them?” His face lit up again “i suppose yeah… BUT DONT HURT ME.” You reminded him of the rule “I’ll be gentle! I’ll be very gentle with you” he raised his hands to show that he was being honest. You got yourself in a more comfortable position on the bed as you pulled your shirt off, chucking it to the other side of the room. While you didn’t notice it, Denki was is absolute awe to see a girl in her bra at all.

“Mkay calm down” you giggled as tried to wake him from his trance, he shook his head to pull himself together. Denki slowly sat next to you on the plush mattress of your bed, he wanted to make himself comfortable for this. Why was he panicking so much?! You reached behind yourself and unclasped your bra, chucking it on the floor too before laying down on your back. Denki was again in complete awe, now he had a pretty girl laying down next to him with her tits out, this day could not get any better for Denki.

“Are you sure I can touch ‘em” he mumbled, obviously wanting confirmation he was actually allowed to touch you. “Yeah go on then” you smiled sweetly up at him, that made his brain overheat. Denkis hand reached out and slowly caressed over your left boob, paying extra attention to the sensitive bud on you. You let out a whimper and his face lit up, a new found confidence going him ability to keep going, his other hand reached out to caress your right tit. He soon found a way to hover over you as he squeezed and gently play with your tits. Denki chuckled in awe, he couldn’t believe he out of all people was making you feel this good. Atleast he assumed you felt good because of the whimpers you let out.

Denki looked up at you and slowly lowered his head to suck on your right nipple. You let out a whine and gripped his hair, grabbing a fistful. He giggles against your boob and waves his tongue over the sensitive bud “shit…”he whispered as he popped off your boob and leaned down to suck on the other one, fondling the one he just had in his mouth. You arched your back a little and let out a coo, running your fingers through his golden blonde locks. The blonde soon popped off your other boob, fondling both with his warm hands. He smirked smugly as he admired your body, he lowered his head again to kiss the valley between each breast before lowering his kisses down your belly as he listened to your sweet noises

“shit your actually really pretty, not like because I just sucked your tits it’s because your like actually pretty!” He sat up to admire you, you blushed and gripped the bedsheets “hmmph.” You pouted “damn someone’s got a attitude” Denki muttered as he went back to kissing your boobs and tummy, you slowly snaked your hand into his hair again and let out a series of whimpers with each kiss and suck. Denki grumbled when he realised that he didn’t have any condoms, looks like a blow job will do fine.

“Can I uh.. take your shorts off?” He asked, trying to atleast make you comfortable “it’s okay if you don’t wanna! It’s completely up to you princess” Denki grins up at you “yeah.. it’s fine” you sat up on your elbows to look down at him, his face was flushed and his eyes sparkled with arousal. Denki placed his fingers under your waistband and pulled your shorts down “shit were going commando today?” His eyebrows raised as his pupils grew, he used his big hands to pull your thighs apart “oh my god your so wet..” Denki mumbled, he had a genuine idea on how to eat a girl out from the pornos he watched but other than that he didn’t know how to pleasure you!

“you gotta let me eat you out” he looked up at you, Pupils blown and all. You let out a surprised whimper, then slowly nodded. “With your words princess with your words” he tapped your thigh with his finger, you gulped and looked down at your pussy “yeah.. sure you can eat me out..” you mumbled bashfully, Denki grinned and pulled your hips towards his face. Licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, you let out a moan and gripped the bedsheets “nghh” your back arched off the mattress. Denki began to eat you out like a starved man, shoving his tongue inside and tongue fucking you before sucking on your clit, he pulled back with a pop and stuck his two fingers into his mouth to use as lube even though you were slick enough from your own juices and his spit for his two fingers to slide right in.

slowly Denki slid his fingers inside of you, stretching your walls out deliciously. You let out a desperate whine as he began to pump his thick fingers deeper and deeper, hr leaned back down to tongue at your clit. You sat up and gripped at his hair, he grunted against your clit. Causing a vibration against your core “t’much! I’m gonna.. I’m gonna..” you whined as the grip on his hair got tighter “holy shit am I about to make a girl cum?” He thought in his mind as he began to pump his fingers faster, making you release more and more moans. eventually you let out one last squeal before cumming hard on his fingers, you panted tiredly and looked down at his hand. Denki slowly pulled his fingers out, slick and cum glistening his fingers. Denki slowly stuck his fingers in his mouth and tasted you on his digits “shit.. pussy tastes good” he mumbled “huh?!” You gasped “calm down!” He chuckles and sat up, leaning his body over you “would you please suck me off? I’m actually really hard and it’s starting to hurt like a lot” he said with a sigh, enjoying the thought of you chocking on his dick.

you gulped and looked down between his legs, the bulge looked painful. “Yeah.. that looks like it hurts.” You nodded as you sat up straight, now completely naked infront of him. Denki grinned and sat down on the mattress, pulling his shorts and boxer briefs off his hips. Releasing his cock from the constraints of his pants , the poor thing was so hard that he even had precum dripping down the length of his dick:((

you sat down on the floor between his legs, your face blushing. Denki ran his hands through his hair, an attempt to calm his nerves. “You know I’ve never had a blow job before” he chuckles nervously as he watches you spit into your hand, you look up at him “I’ve never been eaten out before this so it’s fine” you told him, teaching over and beginning to stroke his lengthy cock. He let out a groan, your hand was so much better then his own fist. You leaned forward and licked the side; base to tip, giving the tip a couple swirls of the tongue. He groaned “shit are you sure you’ve never done this before?!” He said with a groan “mhm..” you hummed against the tip, causing a vibration that made him moan. Denki grabbed a fist full of your hair and pushed your head down on his cock. “Nghh fuck! That feels too good… I’ll probably cum quick…” he groaned as he used his hand to help you suck it, face fucking you.

you could feel the tip of his length going down your throat, tears welling up in your eyes. You gripped his thighs tightly so you had something to hold onto “shit I’m gonna fucking.. cum” he grunted as he began to face fuck you a little faster, he pushed your face all the way down his cock before letting out spurts of hot cum “soo fucking good…” he mumbled, letting your head go so you could breath. You pulled your face off his cock and slowly swallowed all of it, opening your mouth so he could see you swallows all of his seed “that’s hot…” he smirked and rubbed your cheek, and all of this came from doing homework

SHIT YOUR HOMEWORK.

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (01)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.2k

Aliyah's Notes: this is my first series on here so go easy on me (#adele) pls + some things are not going to be obx canon ... at least some of yall are warned. anyw im so excited for this cause lord knows the amount of time ive wanted to make a fake dating fic!!!!!!! anyw i hope you all will enjoy this i had so much writing the first chapter

The clatter of high heels against the marble floor echoed in perfect sync with the ticking of your watch. Every step was deliberate, poised—just like your life had to be. Perfection, it seemed, was not a choice but a requirement for survival.

You adjusted your sunglasses, your gaze skimming over the glamorous expanse of the fashion agency's lobby. People buzzed around you like bees in a hive, their worlds spinning, fueled by the weight of names, status, and flawless images. You smiled politely at the receptionist, offering a nod, though your mind was miles away.

To the outside world, your life was golden. The covers of magazines, the invitations to high-society events, the million-dollar deals with luxury brands—it was a fantasy that others could only dream of. It was your dream some time ago, too. 

But today, your reality felt like walking on the edge of a tightrope, the safety net fraying below you.

Your phone vibrated in your purse, interrupting your thoughts. You fished it out, your pulse quickening when you saw the text from your lawyer. Three words that sent a chill through your carefully constructed façade.

"We need to talk."

Your heart sank. The issue of your visa had been hanging over your head like a storm cloud for months now, growing darker by the day. You’d known this was coming, but knowing and confronting it were two different beasts.

Fame didn’t shield you from the cold bureaucracy of citizenship laws, and your time was running out. One misstep, one delay, and your golden empire could crumble. In a matter of months, you could be deported, left behind by the very country that had built you up.

With a deep breath, you silenced your phone and slid it back into your purse. This wasn’t something you could dwell on right now, not in public. Your expression remained serene, even though your mind was anything but. You had a shoot in an hour, a charity gala that evening, and at some point, you had to meet with the lawyer to discuss "options"—a word that had started to feel more like a trap than a solution.

As you exited the building, the cool breeze caught your hair, the city unfolding before you like a glittering stage. New York City. You looked out at the streets, the people, the life you fought so hard to build. The car pulled up to the curb, and you climbed inside. On your way to your lawyer.

You stepped into the law office, the familiar scent of polished wood and stale coffee wrapping around you like a tight band.

"Ms. Y/L/N, good afternoon," Nicolas Ramirez, your lawyer, greeted you, standing behind his desk. His expression was composed, but you knew him well enough by now to spot the unease in his eyes.

"Hi," you softly smiled at him. Your heels clicked softly on the floor as you sat down, crossing your legs tightly, as if holding yourself together. "Let’s just get straight to it, okay? How bad is it?"

Nico sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Your visa expires in less than three months."

You felt your stomach twist, your worst fear inching closer to reality. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "And what about the appeals? The extensions?"

"We’ve exhausted every possible option—work visas, artist visas, even humanitarian grounds. Immigration laws are tightening, and without a permanent solution like citizenship or residency, you’ll be forced to leave the country."

"Leave?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the nightmare you’d been living with. 

Leave? Go back there?

The country you had fought so hard to escape. The country where your childhood had been marked by suffocating poverty, where your parents had already planned your marriage before you even turned 15. Where your dreams had been a distant, impossible hope until that one person changed your life forever.

You felt your throat tighten. You couldn’t go back.

Nico’s gaze softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I know what this means for you. I know how difficult—"

"You don’t know," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended. "You… You don’t know—I can’t go back there, Nico. I just… I can’t."

He nodded, giving you a moment of silence to compose yourself, but the pressure in your chest only grew. You took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"So what now?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Is this it? Am I out of options?"

"Well… There’s one option we haven’t explored yet." his tone was cautious, like he knew what he was about to say would open a new can of worms.

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

"Marriage."

The word hung in the air, thick and heavy. You blinked, unable to comprehend at first. "Marriage?" you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the absurdity of it clear.

"It’s one of the few legal paths left," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "Marriage to a U.S. citizen could secure your green card and, eventually, permanent residency. It’s a legitimate route—many people in similar situations have done it."

You sat back in your chair, the tension in your body coiling tighter. The thought of marriage, of attaching yourself to someone you barely knew for the sake of staying in the country, made your skin crawl. You had already sacrificed so much for your freedom, for your career. And now this?

"You’re telling me the only way to stay here is to marry someone I don’t even love? Just to avoid being sent back to a country I don’t belong in anymore?"

"Not necessarily," Nicolas said, his tone measured. "It wouldn’t have to be a traditional marriage. Think of it as a business arrangement. It’s a legal partnership—nothing more. And it could save your career, your life here."

You crossed your arms tightly, your mind racing. Marriage. It was a word that had haunted you ever since your parents had tried to force you into it as a teenager. Back then, it was their way of controlling you, of keeping you bound to a life you didn’t want. Now, it felt like the universe was throwing the same chains back at you, just in a different form.

"I’ve compiled a list of potential candidates," Arjun continued, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward you. "People who might be open to an arrangement like this. Athletes, businesspeople—individuals who might benefit from a similar deal."

You glanced at the paper but didn’t pick it up. The names blurred in front of your eyes. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You’d already lost your family, fought tooth and nail to get out of your country and build something for yourself in the U.S. And now you were at risk of losing everything—again.

"I don’t know if I can do this, Nico," you said quietly, shaking your head. "I’ve already sacrificed so much. My family… I gave up everything to be here. And now you’re telling me I have to give up even more?"

"I’m not telling you that you have to do anything," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "I’m saying this is an option. One that could keep you here, legally. But the decision is yours. I’m just laying out the possibilities."

You swallowed the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. 

"I can’t go back there," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "I’ve worked too hard to get here. I can’t lose everything."

He nodded slowly. "Then maybe it’s time to consider unconventional options."

You finally picked up the paper, scanning the names but not really seeing them. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Marriage. It felt like a trap, just like it had back then. But maybe—just maybe—it was the only way to keep your future intact.

"I’ll think about it," you said, standing up and smoothing the front of your dress. "But I’m not making any promises."

"Of course," he said, standing as well. "Just let me know. We’re running out of time, but I’ll support whatever decision you make."

You nodded curtly, turning toward the door. As you stepped out into the cool city air, your chest tightened with the weight of everything you stood to lose. The lights of New York City flickered ahead of you, just out of reach, as though the life you’d built here could vanish at any moment.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly afraid.

Your phone buzzed, dragging you out of your spiraling thoughts. You fished it out of your purse, heart skipping a beat when you saw the name: Nina. Your agent.

With a shaky exhale, you answered. “Nina, hi.”

“Hey, babe!” Nina’s voice was all cheer, a stark contrast to the storm inside you. “So, I have amazing news! Guess who just got major campaign offers coming in? You! Chanel, Loewe, and oh my God, don’t even get me started on Louis Vuitton. The year starts beautifully for you!”

You should’ve felt ecstatic, but instead, the words passed over you like an echo. All you could think of was the countdown Nico had set in motion: three months. Three months before everything you’d built here would be taken away from you. 

“That’s… amazing, Nina,” you managed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Really amazing. Thank you so much.”

“Are you okay? You don’t sound like your sunshine-self.” Nina’s voice softened, concern creeping in. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause. Nina had been there through all your ups and downs, from your rookie days as a model to your rise in the industry. But the immigration issues, the fear of being sent back to a life you couldn’t return to—that was something neither of you could control. 

“Three months?” she repeated, her voice going higher. “Oh my God—what the fuck? I thought… I thought you had more time.”

“So did I.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Nina, I don’t know what to do. I’ve called Nico and he tried everything—extensions, appeals—but the laws are tightening, and he said there’s only one real option left.”

There was a brief silence before she asked, “What option?”

You bit your lip. “Marriage. Nico says I could marry someone for a green card.”

“Marriage?” Nina’s voice came out in a shocked squeak. “Like a fake marriage? Babe, are you serious?”

“I don’t know!” you burst out, frustration and fear colliding. “I don’t know what to do! I can’t go back there. I can’t. My parents… My parents already wrote me off as dead, and if I go back, I’m stuck in a place I spent my entire life trying to escape.”

Her voice softened. “I know, honey, I know… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound—God, I can’t imagine how scary this is for you.”

You took a shaky breath, grateful for her understanding. Nina wasn’t just your manager—she was one of the few people who you actually close to. She was a 34 years old American-Filipina woman. You trusted her with your life. 

“Okay,” Nina said, her voice more focused now. “Okay, now listen. We’ll figure this out. I know Nicolas wouldn’t suggest something like this unless it was a real option. Do you trust him?”

You sighed. “Yeah. I do. But the idea of marrying someone just to stay… it feels like another version of what my parents wanted for me. Like I’m back in that same time of my life.”

“I get it. But this isn’t like that. You’re in control this time,” Nina said. “If this is what you need to stay here, it’s not about love or being owned by someone.”

You nodded to yourself, trying to absorb her words. “Well, um, Nico gave me a list of potential candidates—people who might be willing to make an arrangement. You’ll never guess who’s on it, though.”

“Who? Shawn Mendes? Harry Styles? Tom Holland—”

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, cutting her off. “The basketball play—”

“Yeah, I know who that man is, Y/N. His reputation is a total mess right now. It’s not surprising for him to be on that list.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “It’s a perfect business arrangement for him, too. He needs a way to look respectable again, and I need to stay in the country.”

“So, you’re actually considering this?”

You leaned against a streetlamp, staring at the city around you. “I don’t know. Maybe? It just feels wrong. Like I’m giving up a part of myself.”

“As nicely as this can be said, you are being dramatic here, babe.” Nina sighed softly. “Look, I’m not going to push you either way, okay? But I do think you need to look at it from a different angle. You’re not giving up on yourself. You’re doing what you need to do to stay here, to keep fighting for your career and your future. And Rafe—or whoever you’ll end up marrying—is not your parents. He’s not going to control you or he’ll get slapped.”

You closed your eyes, trying to let her words sink in. She was right—you were in control now. This wasn’t the same as being forced into a marriage you didn’t want. This was about survival. About keeping your life in the U.S. intact.

"Yeah… I guess you’re right," you said softly, feeling some of the tension release from your shoulders. "I just need time to think."

TWO WEEKS LATER.

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm light across your living room. After two relentless weeks of back-to-back fashion shoots, campaign meetings, and gala appearances, you had finally found a moment of peace. You curled up on the plush sofa, sinking into its embrace as the hum of the city outside became a distant murmur. The oversized, loose pajamas you wore were a far cry from the designer gowns and couture you’d been draped in recently, but they were yours—soft, comforting, and familiar. Your hair was twisted into a lazy bun under a satin bonnet.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight of exhaustion slip from your shoulders as you closed your eyes.

Buzz. Buzz.

The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table pulled you from the calm. You groaned softly, reaching for it with one hand, expecting to see another notification about a meeting or event. Instead, it was a message from Nicolas.

“Any thoughts on who you're going to marry? We need to move quickly if we want to ensure everything goes through in time.”

The familiar weight of the situation you’d been trying to avoid crept back into your chest. Two weeks had passed since your lawyer had first laid out the reality of your visa situation. In those weeks, you'd thrown yourself into work, hoping the constant flurry of activity would drown out the anxiety. But now, in the quiet of your home, the decision loomed large again.

You typed back, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

"I haven’t decided yet."

A few seconds later, the reply came through.

"We need to discuss this in person. Can you come to my office today?"

You frowned, your eyes darting around the cozy room, not quite ready to leave your home.

"How about you come here instead?" you typed. "It’s been a long week, and I’d rather talk in private."

There was a pause before the three dots appeared, and then the message followed.

"Sure. I’ll be there in about an hour."

You put your phone down and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, but it was necessary. Time was running out, and you knew you had to face it—whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed in a blur, and soon enough, you heard the knock at your door. You padded across the room in your socks, your oversized pajama pants swishing softly as you walked. Opening the door, you found Nicolas standing there, looking as composed as ever in his tailored suit.

“Come in,” you said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

Nicolas entered, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. "You look... relaxed."

You gave a soft chuckle, gesturing to your pajamas. “Don’t mock the pj’s until you’ve tried them.”

He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of emergency in his expression as he took a seat in the armchair across from you. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, but we really need to make a decision.”

You nodded, sitting back down on the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. “I know… I’ve just been avoiding it.”

“And I noticed,” he said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. “But with the visa expiration approaching, we don’t have much time. We need to find someone—someone who understands the situation and won’t make things harder.”

You bit your lip, holding a smile, glancing at the folder in his hands. “You bought the list?”

He nodded, and handed it over, and you flipped through the names, recognizing some immediately. Athletes, businessmen, even a couple of actors/singers. And then there was Rafe Cameron, his name standing out like a bold headline.

“I’ve looked at these,” you said quietly. “I just… I don’t know who to choose. None of ‘em feel right.”

Nico leaned forward. “It's not about right or wrong. It’s about who can offer the least amount of personal complications and help you secure your residency. Rafe Cameron, for instance—he’s someone who could benefit from this arrangement as much as you. His reputation needs mending, and this could be a mutually beneficial situation.”

You stared at Rafe’s name, the memories of seeing his name in the news about how much of a womanizer he was… Could you really tie yourself to someone like him in a fake marriage?

“Alright, but I need you to help me decide,” you admitted, looking up at him.

He nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. Let’s break it down together and figure out who makes the most sense, not just legally but for your peace of mind.”

Nicolas opened his briefcase again, pulling out more detailed files on the potential candidates. He laid them out neatly on the coffee table, each name with a stack of information—financial records, personal histories, public perceptions. It was all very businesslike.

You leaned forward, looking at the pages in front of you. Each one represented a major decision, a shift in your life you weren’t entirely ready to accept, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Let’s start with the most practical options,” he said, sliding the file on Rafe Cameron toward you. “I know his name has come up before. He’s wealthy, influential, and… well, let’s be honest, he could use a boost to his public image right now. It’s a good match on paper.”

You stared at Rafe’s name again, tapping the edge of the file with your finger. “Yeah, but he’s also a bit of a mess, isn’t he? I mean, the media paints him as this… whore, and his personal life is always talked about. What if that blows back on me?”

Nicolas raised a brow. “That’s something to consider, but you also have to think of the benefits. His public image might not be very clean, but he’s powerful. Marrying him would put you in a stable position, and if it’s a business arrangement, his private affairs don’t have to concern you.”

You exhaled slowly, still feeling uneasy. Rafe Cameron was trouble, and you knew it. But at the same time, trouble might be exactly what could make this work—for both of you.

“What about the others?” you asked, flipping through the files. “There has to be someone who’s… less complicated.”

“Well,” he said, tapping another file. “there’s Owen Turner. He’s a succesful tech entrepeneur, keeps a low profile. No scandals, no messy reputation. He’s reliable, but you’ll have to approach this differently. He’s more private, less likely to want his personal life on display.”

“And boring—plus, he seems like the type of white guy to want a traditional wife. Like he would expect me to cook for him every night… and he has an ugly name.”

“Owen won’t be expecting home-cooked meals, Y/N. He’s a tech guy; he probably lives on energy drinks and instant ramen,” Nico pointed out, trying to steer you back to the serious topic. “But if we position it as a legal arrangement, he could see the value in it.”

You sighed, leaning back on the chair. “Okay, maybe Owen is the safer options. But can you imagine our wedding announcement? ‘Succesful Tech Entrepeneur Married Famous Model: They Share a Love for Cats and Instant Noodle.’”

Nico shook his head, trying not to smile. “Focus, please. This is a serious matter.”

“Right, right, sorry…” you said, wavering your hand dismissively. “But, what do you think about Rafe?”

“Rafe Cameron is the most straightforward option,” he said, his tone now more measured. “He’s already in the public eye, which means there won’t be as much of a shock if you’re suddenly married. Plus, his need for good press aligns with your need for stability.”

“And personally?”

He smiled softly, a rare gesture from him. “Personally, I think you should go with the person you think you can manage.”

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. Staring at the stack of papers in front of you, Rafe Cameron’s name glaring up at you from the top of the list. Every name on the list had its pros and cons, but something about Rafe’s file felt different. Maybe it was the intensity of his media coverage, the scandals, or the way he dominated the headlines for all the wrong reasons. But as much as you hesitated, his name kept pulling you back.

“I know his reputation isn't spotless,” Nico said, sensing your hesitation, “but in this situation, a clean reputation isn’t the priority. You need someone powerful, someone with enough influence to make this arrangement stick without getting tangled up in emotional complications.”

You nodded, again.”But I don’t know if I can handle all the baggage that comes with Rafe Cameron. His public image is a trainwreck. Wouldn’t that only complicate things more?”

Nico leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Possibly. But think of it this way: his personal life is already so chaotic that a stable, respectable marriage might be exactly what he needs to repair his image. And that’s where you come in. You’d be helping each other.”

Your eyes dropped back down to his file. "Do you think he'd even agree to something like this?"

Nico chuckled softly. “If there’s one thing I know about men like Rafe Cameron, it’s that they understand deals. His reputation is hanging by a thread, and a marriage to someone like you—someone with a pristine public image—could be the ticket to restoring his credibility. It’s a win-win, really.”

You considered Nico’s words. He was right. Rafe had everything to gain from a marriage of convenience, just like you. And while his scandals were messy, they didn’t define him entirely. He was still an elite athlete, one of the best in the game, and with the right PR strategy, you could both come out looking better.

But the thought of marrying someone like him—a notorious playboy with a history of messy breakups—made your stomach churn. 

“You know,” Nico continued, “if this were just about your visa, we’d be having a different conversation. But this is about your entire future. Your career, your freedom to stay here, everything you’ve built. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice, but it’s one worth considering.”

You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "What happens if it falls apart? What if things with Rafe go wrong?"

"That’s why we’ll draft a contract," Nico reassured you. "This won’t be a traditional marriage, Y/N. You’ll both have clear boundaries, and legally, we’ll protect your interests. If things go south, you’ll be covered."

You stared at the file a little longer, then closed your eyes.Rafe Cameron. He was cocky, possessive, and reckless—everything you usually avoided. But maybe that was the key. You wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to control you or make this anything more than a business transaction.

It would be messy. It would be complicated. But it would also keep you here, in the country you’d fought so hard to call home. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the solution you both needed.

“Okay,” you said softly, your decision finally settling. “I’ll do it.”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up, a little surprised at how quickly you’d made up your mind. “You’re sure?”

“No,” you admitted with a weak smile. “But I think this is the best option. I’ll marry Rafe Cameron.”

Nico nodded, closing the folder with a satisfied smile. “Good. I’ll set up a meeting with him. We’ll get the ball rolling.”

Oh God, you were going to marry Rafe Cameron…

chapter two

[ahqkas]

“MILLION DOLLAR MAN — bruce wayne.

PAIRING! bruce wayne 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! bruce met you through a dating app (his sons’ doing, really) and the temptation to invite you over for christmas is getting harder to resist WORD COUNT! 3.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, bruce is literally down bad for reader in this one, unedited + lmk if found! NOTES! for nat & based on this req. , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE AVOIDED RELATIONSHIPS LIKE A SOLDIER DODGING BULLETS, each attempt adding yet another layer to the armor he wore daily. He didn’t need them, the women, or so he told himself. They entered his life easily — at his own charity galas, where one pretty bird thought she could get a kiss from him by the end of the night. Female admirers who ate up his charming smiles and sharp eyes seemed to flock around him at all times. And those countless girls who were lured in by the Wayne name, the status, the wealth.

And Bruce gave them the attention they craved from him.

The women served their purpose as brief districtions, companions who helped him maintain his public image, but none of them really mattered to him.

They kept the colder side of his bed warm, but never his heart.

It wasn’t that Bruce didn’t want love — some part of him did, but that part was buried under the weight of Batman. Allowing himself to lose the walls around him and find an attachment in a woman wasn't something his alter ego was okay with, not with the way he’d been living. And another part convinced him that his duties as Gotham’s protector, with all his scars and wounds, didn’t make him a possible object for such things. Love and vigilantism didn’t mingle together well.

Maybe that’s why his own sons and personal butler teamed up on him. Batman was a hero to many, but with how much it damaged Bruce’s internal beliefs, it would ruin him soon enough.

It started as something innocent (but it seemed the wolf was clothed in sheep’s wool): Dick, his oldest, had teased him about his non-existent love life during a training session in the Batcave.

The large space was full with flickering lights coming from the monitors and grunts from the fighting men. Sweat filled the air, masculine and strong, but that only indicated to the hard work they were doing. Training wasn’t easy, they liked to train with the maximum intensity ( it was kinda needed, too ) and it showed. From their damp hair and glistening skin to the rippling muscles underneath their clothes.

“You know, Bruce,” his son started when he blocked yet another strike coming from the man in question. A puff of air left his mouth upon the attack. Not fair. “for someone who spends his nights saving people, you sure are terrible at saving yourself from eternal loneliness.”

Bruce delivered another jab, this one directed straight at Dick’s weak point. “Not now, Dick.”

But his son was nothing if not persistent and he always got what he wanted, whether it was with or without serious consequences. “I’m serious. When was the last time you went on a date? And don’t try to tell me you had one on your arm during the last charity event. That doesn’t count.”

Both of them fully knew Bruce’s arm candies were way more interested in his name and money than in his heart and soul. The truth made his jaw muscles tighten at the realization.

“My personal life is irrelevant to my work.”

Dick took the opportunity and circled the older man like a predator catching the prey’s scent of blood. A sweet weakness, that one. He’d be stupid if he didn’t take the chance. “Is it though? I mean, sure, you’re great at taking down supervillains and brooding on top of high rooftops, but even Batman needs a little action sometimes. The different kind of action, of course. Or are you planning to spend the rest of your life married to the job?”

Bruce swiped his right leg toward Dick’s shins, trying to take him down like he was the said supervillain but the acrobat jumped right on time, avoiding Bruce’s attempt with a grin on his face.

He landed on his feet and crossed his arms at his chest, leaning the weight of his body against one leg. The playfulness disappeared from both his voice and expression and instead, seriousness graced him whole. “Seriously, Bruce, even Alfred’s worried. He brought it up the other day while we were decorating the tree. Something about how the manor feels colder than usual this year.”

“The heating system is fine.”

With Jason gone, it was the truth. His second son had this strange relationship with all the members of the family. Off and on. Off and on. No one truly knew where they stood in Jason’s eyes but he made the effort and showed up on Christmas Eve the other year upon receiving Alfred’s invitation.

Bruce doubted he would show up two years in a row.

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it,” Dick pressed, and effectively added more salt into Bruce’s wounds. It stung and it fucking hurt. As much as Batman was ruthless, it didn’t mean the man under the mask was resistant against the pain his life brought. “You’re not getting any younger, B. It wouldn’t kill you to let someone in. And I don’t mean us. Try to meet someone who isn’t friendly with a criminal record.”

The older man could only stare helplessly at the other. Those words his son, partner, spoke were loud, crawling their way into his mind and much to his dismay, his heart as well.

Before he could voice his dismissal, a younger voice called out. It was familiar in a way family tended to be.

“You are wasting your breath, Grayson. Father has neither the time nor the inclination to entertain your nonsense,” his youngest son declared into the space of Batcave, his voice ringing out and echoing every single word. The blood son, Damian Wayne.

The father didn’t even flinch, just let out a deep sigh through his nose. It was as usual between those two, always bickering from Damian’s side and teasing remarks from Dick’s. You could mistake the blood running through their system as one, if not for the physical differences. They were brothers in all but red.

“Damian,” Dick started in that lecturing tone he’d always seemed to use with the younger boy, “when was the last time you saw Bruce here even try to have a social life?”

Damian rolled his eyes, the green disappearing behind his eyelids before they reappeared, rougher than they were. “The so called ‘social life’ you’re referring to consists of women who barely last through dinner. Why would he waste his energy on distractions when Gotham requires his full attention?”

“Because even Batman needs a break. You know, normal human things? Like dating, smiling, not dying alone in this cave surrounded by bats?”

“If Father is content with his choices, who are you to meddle? Unlike you, he does not require constant companionship to validate his existence.”

“Ouch,” Dick put his palm against his heart in a mocking manner, feigning hurt as his lips formed a pout. “You’ve got a real gift for the Christmas spirit, don’t you?”

The younger son narrowed his eyes at his supposed brother. The constant bickering was almost normal in their lives so far, and nothing seemed to be changing any time soon. He had to learn how to live with the excuse of a brother, although he started to form a light liking towards him. He wasn’t so bad. “I only speak the truth,” his green irises flicked to Bruce. “Though it is peculiar he tolerates your interference. Perhaps even Father has realized how pathetic his current romantic life—or lack thereof—appears.”

The object of the conversation let out another sigh, this one loud enough for the boys to hear. Their gazes snapped toward Bruce with accusingly great speed.

“If you two are done debating my personal life, there’s actual work to be done.”

He missed the glance his oldest threw at the youngest. He missed the look filled with amusement and a plan that was already brewing. He missed the nod they gave each other, although Dick’s was more pronounced and determined.

The next few hours were spent creating Bruce’s dating app profile.

The final result was the definition of real sugar daddy vibes. Every detail had been debated (mostly argued over though) and thought through, so to say the boys were satisfied with it was an understatement. The oldest prided in the work, saying how it would get so many women to reply which would eventually lead to the right one. The middle one Dick and Damian (only Dick) dragged into the activity beamed up once the profile was set while the youngest scoffed and scowled during the entire process.

During the next evening, the boys showed the main man his new account.

Bruce was left speechless upon seeing the bright screen flash before his eyes. Not a single word was muttered as he watched his boys showing him the app and explaining how exactly it worked (he’d never used a dating app before all this so bear with him). The main photo on the profile was a candid one of him, the one Cass had taken on a sunny day in the Wayne Manor gardern. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the long sleeves rolled up past his elbows as the muscles of his forearms bulged up. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the sunlight casting shadows across his sharp features and Bruce had to admit they chose a good photo.

It wasn’t intimidating, but it wasn’t exactly friendly as well. The good old middle.

The boys knew he was convinced to give it a try when he waved them off with a deep sigh slipping past his lips.

The game was on.

It was past the midnight when he lied in his bed, propped against one too many pillows and wondered why he was still scrolling through the damned dating app. It was late—far past the time he should have been out on patrol, but Red Hood and Red Robin got it covered for him.

Bruce wasn’t looking for anything specific, really. If he were honest, this whole situation felt out of place for him. Swiping through the profiles was more like an exercise for his thumb.

First was Madison K. Her profile opened with flashy colors that immediately put Bruce into a doubtful situation. Were all these women going to be like this? Madison was beautiful and her looks screamed professionalism: her makeup was done flawlessly, adorning her bright eyes and full lips. She looked like she belonged on a cover for a fashion magazine, not a dating app. Her bio made his thumb swipe left.

‘Manifesting my best life. CEO of my own happiness. Looking for someone who’s successful, ambitious, and knows how to treat me like a queen.’

The next account’s bio made him grimace and swipe left once again.

‘Looking for someone who can keep me living the dream. If you’re successful, generous, and ready to spoil me, let’s talk.”

At this point, Bruce was ready to delete the dating app his boys set up and enjoy the rest of his night. Most of the profiles he swiped through were simply bland to him. Nothing felt genuine. Right. It was safe to say he was losing the hope Dick had set in him earlier in the evening. Until he stumbled upon your profile.

The account stood out among the others—simple, elegant, but with a certain amount of warmth that seemed genuine. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat once he scrolled further and came across your photo. The picture showed you in a cozy cafe, the one Steph adored so much for their cinnamon roll buns. A soft smile danced on your pretty face, highlighting the curve of your cheeks as you looked off to the side. You captured Bruce in a way the others didn’t.

You looked like a fawn surrounded by hungry wolves. You were admirable while they were craving wealth and status. Two different sides of a coin, but Bruce had already known his pick.

Your bio was sincere, a sight the man liked to see.

‘I enjoy the little moments — finding beauty in the simple things. I believe in kindness, and I’m looking for someone who values honesty and a deep conversation.’

His mind flicked briefly toward the countless hours he spends in the cave, surrounded by work and worries. You seemed like the one who could understand the balance between the quiet and the loud, someone who could exist in both of his worlds without losing that spark you held in your gaze.

Before he could overthink it, Bruce clicked on the “message” button.

Once the screen of your non-existent chat appeared, his mind went blank and all he was capable of was to stare mindlessly at the phone. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came to him. What did one say to someone like you? He wasn’t used to thinking ahead when it came to women. This was a new field. And he couldn’t screw up.

Finally, his fingers moved before his mind could think of whatever embarrassing thing it was capable of.

> Hey, I noticed your profile and wanted to reach out. There’s something about your words that struck a chord with me. I’d like to know more about you.

And that’s how the two of you started your relationship, or whatever you could call it. Neither of you voiced it as official, but that was okay. He hadn’t expected to feel this way, not so soon. And yet it came at him, crashing like a large wave of emotions every time you were around. You changed everything for him.

Your conversations became the highlight of his days.

His ears perked up every single time without a fail when he heard the soft ‘ping!’ of the notification, already convinced it was from you (and it 98 percent was). Whether it was early in the morning before he started working in the chaotic Wayne Enterprises or late at night when the Batcave was quiet and felt at peace. You were always there with him.

You were thoughtful, generous, and refreshingly kind. You asked him questions that no one else dared to: what he wanted from life, what made him happy, what kept him awake at night. You didn’t flinch at his silence. You didn’t push him to give answers he wasn’t ready to share. You understood him in a way only a few people did.

Piece by piece, he let you into his world — not that part filled with constant danger and threats, but that part that longed for something real.

By the time Christmas approached, Bruce was sure of one thing: he wanted you in his life.

The holiday was just around the corner, filling the air with joy and gratitude as it always did. The snow was blanketing the streets with white powder, and although many people were complaining about the cold, it had its charm.

Christmas had always been about family for Bruce, about gathering around the tree and full table with the people who mattered most. It was lonely at first, after the death of his parents, but over the years, Alfred had made it work. The table was always full of tasty food the kids adored and presents Bruce knew would make them more than happy were neatly waiting for them every morning after Christmas Eve.

This year though, Bruce wanted it to be a little different. He wanted you to be part of it.

You might actually fit into the chaos of the Wayne family — the teasing and playful banters between you, Dick, and Tim would be absolute gold to hear. You probably even could handle Damian’s wit which was something his father would like to see. He could picture you smiling, holding back your own remarks. The idea of you sitting beside him at the long dining table, sharing their traditions, made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to.

That night, he sent you a message.

> Are you free on Christmas Eve?

Your response came in quickly, as it always did. Bruce’s heart thumped against the bones of his ribs.

> I am. Why?

He hesitated for a bit, overthinking his decision.

> I’d like you to join me for dinner. It’s a family thing but I’d really like for you to be there.

> Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

> You wouldn’t be intruding.

Bruce could picture the light frown between your brows and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. You often did it unconsciously, never knowing how pretty you looked this way. But even as he pictured your face, a part of him was growing more nervous about the situation. Would you agree to an event this serious? Spend Christmas with him. And his family. Or were you coming up with excuses right now? He wouldn’t blame you.

> Then I’d love to come.

His heart skipped a beat and that night, Bruce went to bed feeling a little lighter than he usually did.

Snow blanketed the long driveway leading up to Wayne Manor and for once, Bruce wasn’t thinking about the pressure of Batman or the chaos the boys would definitely stir up tonight. His attention was entirely focused on the one making your way towards him. He stood just outside the grand entrance, dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored suit that fit him like a glove. The soft crunch of tires on the white powder alerted him to your arrival, and as your car pulled up, Bruce started to feel the nervousness. He adjusted his tie with a single hand.

When you stepped out, his breath caught.

You were breathtakingly beautiful. Dressed in an inky black that hugged your figure in all the right places, the fabric shimmered under the outdoor lights of the mansion. The smile you gave him when your eyes met melted all the nerves that had been harboring in his system. He was finally calm and composed, for what seemed like the first time in the evening.

“You’re early,” Bruce pointed out softly when you walked up the stairs to meet him in front of the door, and his eyes sparkled with little stars at the sight of you. How did he get so lucky? “You look stunning, by the way.”

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. And thank you. You clean up well, too, Bruce.”

Your gaze held a playful edge in it as you accepted his hand, locking your palm around his bulging biceps and squeezing warmly. The touch added the missing piece of the puzzle Bruce was trying to solve while his cheeks warmed a rosy pink under your influence without any hesitation. The gesture felt natural, like it always belonged there.

The two of you approached the doors of the manor in a shared silence, although it didn’t feel a bit awkward. You took a moment to take in the place. It was like something out of your childhood dreams — tall, arched windows glowing with the soft light of a dozen garlands lining the entryway. The faint hum of holiday music and the occasional sound of laughter echoed through the manor.

It was Bruce’s home.

“Do you always go this big for Christmas?” you voiced a question that's been sitting on your mind since the moment you saw the large Christmas tree from the entryway to Bruce’s living room. Decorated with lots of ornaments, it looked lovely, accompanied by a heap of presents.

“Alfred insists,” admitting with a soft chuckle, Bruce rubbed the nape of his neck as he led you deeper into his home. “And the boys like the holidays. I want them to have the best.”

The scent of pine and cinnamon enveloped your senses the further you moved. The sounds grew louder, too. You awe made him feel lighter somehow. The dining room at Wayne Manor was nothing short of spectacular this night, with the long mahogany table adorned with a dozen of flickering candles and plates of food that looked like it belonged in a holiday spread for a cookbook.

You were sitting beside Bruce (he kind of insisted anyway), your hand occasionally brushing against his. He helped you settle into the chair which earned a teasing glance from Dick. Speaking of his oldest son, he was sitting across from you with an easy grin that told you some questions would come your way sooner or later. Tim was at Dick’s right, while Damian occupied the chair from the other side of his father.

The evening was more than successful in your opinion. Steph asked you about your favorite literature, while Tim quizzed you on trivia about Gotham (which you surprisingly got all right). Damian, after much persistence from Dick, shared a story about his latest art project, though he kept glancing at you as if trying to gauge your reaction.

Through it all, Bruce remained by your side.

When the night finally came to an end, and everyone drifted to their own space of the manor, Bruce walked you to the entrance with a gentle hand against the small of your back.

“Thank you,” his gaze met yours as he handed you your coat, effortlessly helping you slip your arms into the sleeves. “For coming tonight. For putting up with them.”

You gifted him with the most precious kind of a present; your smile, smaller hands reaching up to adjust the collar of his dark suit. “Of course. They’re wonderful, Bruce. I enjoyed myself tonight.”

For a man who othen found himself at loss for words when it came to talking in emotions, Bruce found himself smiling softly with his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Because for the first time, Christmas didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt like a new beginning.